To Separate a Twin
by SomedayEngland
Summary: Draco's malicious plans for Harry get mixed up and instead land on George Weasley, causing hurt for everyone near. Friends search for a cure while Draco tries to make sure that no one knows who is responsible. Twins' 5th year.
1. Draco's got a plan

**Disclaimer: If **_**I**_** owned the Harry Potter Series - The Dark Lord would be the least of their worries. evil cackle So, thankfully for all attractive wizards out there, I don't.**

**AN: I have ten chapters of this story already written and waiting to be posted - but I didn't realize until just a few days ago that Percy should still be in school during this story. I had no desire whatsoever to go back and write him in, so I am just accepting that as a verifiable plot mistake. **

* * *

Draco Malfoy had been wandering up and down Diagon Alley for over an hour. The nerve that his mother would leave him bored for an entire hour! It was about time that someone entertained him before he got angry. He leaned sulkily against a brick wall and glared down the street, when something down the road caught his attention. He grinned an evil little Draco grin. Here comes entertainment, walking in his direction.

Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. Three best friends innocently browsing the many shops on Diagon Alley. That was, until they caught sight of Malfoy stalking toward them.

Ron groaned audibly. "I suppose it's just our luck that he had to choose the same day out of three months to be here that we did."

Hermione ignored Ron's complaint and stepped past him, quick with a plan. "Let's just hide, before he catches up to us." She walked to the closest door on her right, causing Ron and Harry to gape at her in disbelief.

"Hermione," Harry said, shaking his head. "I don't care what Malfoy has to say to us, there's no way that we're going into a Women's clothing store."

"Especially _those kinds _of Women's clothes." Ron added in a horrified whisper.

Hermione raised her eyebrows in question. Harry nodded toward the door that she was holding open, and she turned and peeked inside. One look at the first pair of lacy bra and panties and she slammed it shut and turned around, blushing furiously. "Oh, I hadn't…sorry," she stammered, avoiding eye contact with either of them.

Walking quickly to the next door down the road she stepped inside, this time carefully checking the sign above the door first. Thankfully it was just a Hair Stylist; for witches and wizards who didn't have the nerve to point a wand at their head and use a cutting spell. Or maybe for those with enough nerve to trust someone else.

Safely inside, the three of them sat on a bench by the entrance and crossed their fingers, hoping that Malfoy would take a hint and leave them alone. As if. Draco walked halfway past the shop but stopped in front the glass door, performing an overdone double-take as if he were surprised at what he saw inside. Ron rolled his eyes and the trio prepared themselves for what they knew was coming next.

Pulling the door open and stepping into the building, Draco stopped in front of the three Gryffindors. Harry was the first to stand, and Ron and Hermione quickly followed.

"Well, well. If it isn't the Mudblood and it's two little friends. Who let you three out in public?" Draco's sneer was as prominent as ever.

Harry clenched his jaw, already angry. "We don't want trouble today, Malfoy. Leave us alone and we'll do the same for you." He hated the fact that he had to look up to talk to Draco. He could only imagine that Malfoy loved it.

Draco raised his eyebrows with a mildly amused expression. "What, do you think I'm afraid of you, Potter?" He scoffed, taking a step closer to Harry.

Ron and Hermione stepped closer too. "Shove off Malfoy." Ron said warningly, tightening and un-tightening his fists.

Malfoy laughed curtly. "Was that a threat, Weasley? You lot had better watch it."

"Or what? You'll run off and tell mummy? We're not afraid of you either." Hermione stated in a loud voice, glaring up at him from between Harry and Ron's shoulders.

"Leave us alone, Malfoy." Harry repeated quietly.

Draco sized up his chances at a real fight. They weren't good. So, he gave one final condescending sneer before shoving the door open and sulking out into street.

Now he was in a _very _bad mood. He certainly hadn't intended to lose an argument that he had planned himself. Draco shoved his hands into his pockets, hesitating only momentarily before he turned onto a dark road. Who cared what his mother said? He needed a way to make Potter and his friends pay this year. And what better place to think about it than Knockturn Alley?

Draco avoided the malicious stares coming from hags and other deformed creatures along the dim and filthy roadway and walked straight into a familiar shop, Borgin and Burkes. Ingnoring the tall stands around him, stocked with dark objects of varying prices, Draco walked to the front counter. They always kept the rarest - and most dangerous - things there.

He examined the items displayed on the counter. A dangerous looking curved blade caught his attention immediately. About a foot long, the handle was decorated with inlaid jewels and carved designs. The tag read, "DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS -21,900 Galleons" Draco smiled as he pictured a certain trio having the misfortune to pick up that knife.

He started to look at the next item, a long claw on a metal chain, when the store clerk entered from the back room. "And how can I interest the young Master Malfoy today?" The man leaned forward over the counter.

Draco glared at him. The presence of another human had reminded him just how angry he was. "You can start by not calling me that," Draco snarled. "My father isn't here."

"Of course not...Mr. Malfoy." The man drew out the last words, eyeing Draco carefully to make sure that he had said the right thing. Draco purposely looked around for another reason to complain. Before he could find anything though, a scuffling noise from behind distracted him.

He turned around and saw a little cage, with a creature inside that was unbelievably hideous for it's size. No bigger than the back of Draco's hand, in had four legs and a small tail, but looked more like some mutated kind of beetle than anything else. It's hard, black shell was cracked in many places, revealing an orange/red color beneath. It didn't seem to have a face, no eyes or ears. Just two long fangs that seemed to be constantly dripping a dark yellow, almost grey, venom.

Draco was absolutely fascinated.

"What is it?" He asked quietly, not noticing the way that the shop owner beside him slowly grinned.

"Ah yes, that is our first live artifact for sale. Very few of these creatures still exist. Most people think that they are only myth now. But here we have one, ready for-"

"What does it do?" Draco asked sharply. He had no desire to hear the entire sales pitch.

The man pursed his lips, annoyed, and looked down at the cage. "In short, it's venom will completely alter your personality, making you think things and do things that you normally never would have done before, usually damaging things. To the point that everyone that you know will reject you. There are a few other details, side effe-" Once again he was cut short by Draco.

"I want it," he said shortly. "How much does it cost?" He looked demandingly at the shop keeper.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy. I-"

"_I want it,_" Draco almost snarled. He was not going to lose again.

The man's shoulders sank as he gave in. "The price is 2,000 Galleons."

"Two-_thousand_?" Draco repeated incredulously. "You think I have that kind of money with me?"

The man shrugged. "That is the price. And it's less than it used to be." He started to pull a cover over the cage.

Draco pulled a small, black bag out of his pocket and dropped it on the counter. "Here, I've only got  
250 with me now. I'll make sure that you get the rest later."

Borgin visibly scoffed. "That's not good enough. I need the money now."

Draco put on his coldest stare.

"Mr. Borgin. Do you really want me to tell my father that you wouldn't accept the word of a Malfoy? I know for a fact that he has been reconsidering funding you for that new collection from Africa."

Borgin looked miserable. It was officially official. He hated Malfoys.

"The creature eats only meat," he said reluctantly. "And any kind of meat, living or dead. The venom is injected with the first bite. Also, once you touch it, it will remember you as the first person that ever did and become completely devoted to you. Keep it in it's cage or it will follow you everywhere." He grabbed Draco's bag of coins and angrily shoved it into a drawer behind the counter.

Draco laughed to himself with twisted jubilee. Now Potter would finally get what he deserved. Malfoy picked up the cage and hid it under his coat before walking out into the street.

"We'll see how smart you are when nobody likes you, Potter. See just how you manage on your own…"

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**Like it? Hate it? Let the world know how you feel with that simple little review button... Please review each chapter of the story. I love to hear criticisms and comments and if you wait until the end to review it usually just ends up as your opinion of the story as a whole. I am a detail freak and therefore like to hear details. :)**


	2. A new school year

Draco Malfoy had been at school for three weeks and still hadn't found a time to use his new pet on Harry. It seemed that there was always a reason not to. He didn't want to mess up a good chance, or to get caught. No, getting caught was definitely not a good idea. He sat at dinner, letting ideas run through his head.

The Slytherin vs. Gryffindor Quidditch match was scheduled for the next day. The first match of the year. How could he use that? He couldn't, he wouldn't be anywhere near Potter then.

He could drop the creature into Potter's bag after Potions or Care of Magical Creatures…even Defense Against the Dark Arts. No, that was far too risky. Too many people. Someone might see, or it might crawl out and escape before biting Harry. A better idea would be to scrape some of the venom off of it's fangs and somehow get that to Potter. Drop it in his drink? Yeah right, how would he do that? Next idea. Really, he could just let it lose in the Gryffindor Common Room and let it bite anyone in there. It would be fun to watch no matter who it got.

Draco considered that for a while. No, he wanted to use it on Potter.

Okay, before Potions tomorrow he would put the creature in Potter's desk. It hadn't eaten for a few days so hopefully when Harry reached inside he would get a bit of a surprise. No wait, tomorrow was Saturday. No classes. Monday. Monday he would finally do it.

Draco left dinner early, telling his housemates that he had homework to do. He chuckled to himself on his way back to the Slytherin Common Room. This would be great. Better than great.  
In fact, it would be - Draco entered the large room and stopped short. A dead cat lay on the floor.

It was disgusting. There were bits of fur matted in blood on the floor around the dead animal. A hole was eaten into it's belly. Draco resisted the impulse to be sick. Before he could react further, he was even more horrified. Something crawled out from inside the cat. And not just something, _his _something.

Draco reached down and grabbed it, wincing at the thick blood now on his hands. He ran to his room and knelt on the floor next to his bed. He reached under with one hand and kept a firm hold on the creature with his other. He was revolted at the way that it seemed to snuggle into his palm. He hadn't expected completely devoted to mean like this.

Finally he felt his fingertips brush the cage. He reached in just a bit further and pulled it out. He ran back into the Common Room after shoving the creature into it's cage and stuffing it back under his bed. He needed to find out how it had escaped, and make sure that it never happened again. But first, he needed to get that cat somewhere where no one would find it.

He looked around for anything to carry the dead animal in, and found a copy of The Daily Prophet folded on a table in the centre of the room. Quickly, he laid the cat on the paper and scooped up the fur on the floor, wrapping it all up in the paper. He could hear voices coming down the hall to the Common Room door. Draco tried not to panic, and picked up the bundle on the floor searching frantically for a place to hide it. He ran to a large figurine on a table in the corner and shoved the cat behind it. Just in time.

Millicent Bulstrode and her friend walked into the Common Room. Draco felt, once again, that he would be sick as he realized that the dead cat had belonged to none other than the girl standing in front of him.

"Alright, Malfoy," she greeted. Draco couldn't get himself respond. It was like his tongue and his brain had joined up to rebel against him. He just stared at her with his mouth open, hoping that he didn't look on the outside at all like he felt on the inside. Unfortunately for him, he did.

"Are you alright?" The friend asked, smiling nervously. "You look like someone died."

Draco tried not to freak out. It was just a coincidence that she had said that. She didn't know anything. How could she?

"I'm -" he lowered his voice to the right octave. "I'm fine. I mean, of course I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be? Would you just stay out of my business?" He was talking way too fast. He had to calm down.

Millicent was obviously annoyed. "What are you doing over there with that statue? And what's that on your hands?" She asked demandingly.

Malfoy looked down at his hand. His knuckles were white from gripping the statue. Which made the dark red blood stand out even clearer. He let go and hurriedly put his hands in his pockets.

"I don't have anything on my hands," He could have smacked himself. Now she knew that he was lying. "Would you just clear off and leave me alone?" He was almost yelling from panic.

Millicent Bulstrode stared at him angrily. Draco could feel the sweat on the back of his neck. "Let's go, Stacey," she said to her friend, "I have to feed Miss Prissy." She turned and walked haughtily from the Common Room. Draco swayed on the spot. He felt very, very faint.

As soon as the two girls left, Draco grabbed the dead cat and ran to his room. He pushed it under his bed, making sure that it was on the opposite side of his trunk from the creature. Then he double-checked the cage to make sure that it was latched tightly.

After thoroughly washing his hands Draco went directly to bed. He was completely drained of energy and very ready for a peaceful night of sleep. That was before the rest of the Slytherins got back from dinner. Even from his room he could hear Millicent Bulstrode asking about her missing cat. That settled it. He would not be able to sleep that night. He really shouldn't leave a dead animal under his bed anyway.

He had to sneak out and bury it somewhere. Right, once the Common Room was empty and everyone in his dorm was asleep. Draco rolled onto his side and tried not to think about either of the things under his bed.

* * *

"Right, how can they honestly expect us to get this done -

- on top of all our other homework -  
- and personal things we have to do -  
- not to mention any detentions we might have picked up -

- all before the Quidditch game tomorrow?" Fred finished with a disgusted look.

The Gryffindor Common Room was as crowded and noisy as on any evening just after dinner. Perfect cover for the Weasley Twins to persuade their little brother to finish their homework for them.

"Ron. We've got an unbelievable amount of important work that we have to get done. And we don't have time to go down to the library for this one assignment." Fred reasoned to his younger brother.

"I've got stuff to do too." Ron said, determined to not give in this time. "I've got loads of my own homework and Harry and I were going to visit Hagrid tonight."

George rolled his eyes. "It's a Saturday! I'm sure you can find time between all that to work on one simple charm for us. Really. How many times have we helped you out when you were in need? Answer us that, little brother." he demanded, poking Ron accusingly.

"Without demanding payment, never," Ron replied bravely, glaring at George. "I'm up to my room to finish my Potions essay, and my Astronomy chart, and my Charms practice." Ron said, heading for the stairs to the Boys Dormitories.

"And _while _you're working on Charms," said Fred, grabbing Ron's arm before he could walk past him, "you can get us the result of the spell _Trilos Oblu, _right Ron?" Fred gave an exasperated sigh. "Listen, if you don't do this for us, we'll have to do it -

- and if we have to do it, we won't have time to get _our _stuff done _and _make it to the Quidditch meeting tomorrow morning -

- and if we don't make it to the Quidditch meeting, Wood will get…"

"Alright, I get it!" Ron pulled his arm free and glowered at his brothers. "…Fine, I'll do your bloody homework. One of these days I'm going to write Mum and tell her what you two gits do to me."

The Twins each raised an eyebrow and smirked identically.

Ron stomped the rest of the way to the stairs. "We'll never forget this, Ron!" They called in unison after him.

Ron didn't look back.

"Well Fred, shall we finish our important work?" George grinned. "The little whiner has Hermione do half of his homework anyway."

Fred laughed as they sat down on a couch in the corner and resumed their game of Exploding Snap.

* * *

Come 2:30 AM, Draco was creeping down the dungeon halls on his way out of the school. He was carefully carrying the cat wrapped in newspaper. He had to bury it somewhere on the grounds where no one would notice.

Malfoy stopped suddenly. Faintly, he could hear Peeves in the hall next to him, banging on the walls and singing a version of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" that does not bear repeating. Draco had to get outside, fast.

He walked quickly and quietly through the closest door leading onto the school grounds. Once outside, he decided to take the cat down to Hagrid's garden and bury it there, where nobody would notice a small lump in the dirt.

Draco hurried to finish his task, digging in the lose dirt with his bare hands. As soon as the cat was buried he ran back to the castle and crawled into bed. He felt much better now that there was no evidence against him. And in two days he would finally get to use his creature on Potter.  
Draco smiled and fell asleep almost instantly.

When he woke up, Draco had forgotten about the drama of the night before. All that he was thinking about was beating Gryffindor in the Quidditch match this afternoon. He dressed quickly and walked into the Common Room, only to be confronted by Millicent Bulstrode.

"You did it, didn't you? You took my cat." She looked angry to the point of tears.

"What are you talking about?" Draco sneered. "I didn't even know that you had a cat." He found that it was much easier to lie when you had gotten rid of all proof against you.

"I don't know what you did, but I'll find out. She was fine before I left for dinner last night, and then she was gone. And you were the only person back here before me. If you've hurt her Malfoy, I swear I'll hurt you." She turned and walked to the Girl's Dormitories.

Draco tried to laugh, but was already nervous again. He really didn't need someone trying to prove that he had done something wrong while he had a most-likely illegal magical creature right under his bed.  
And really, Bulstrode was bigger than him, and probably would carry through with her threat of hurting him. The best idea was probably to try and avoid her for a while. Right now he just needed to get ready for Quidditch.

Later that afternoon Draco stood in the Slytherin locker rooms minutes before the game. He pulled his green Quidditch robes over his head and reached for his gloves. But no, they weren't in his locker. Maybe he had already put them on the bench behind him? He turned and checked. No, they weren't there either. Of course! It was the first match of the year. He hadn't even taken them out of his trunk yet.

"Crabbe, Goyle!" He called to the two Slytherins waiting by the door without turning to look at them.  
"Go and get my gloves from my trunk. The small one, by my bed. And be fast about it, the game's starting soon!"

Crabbe and Goyle nodded and walked out of the locker rooms and toward the dungeons. Once they reached the dorm room, Crabbe walked to Draco's bed .

"Here, he keeps it under here," he grunted, pulling a very large trunk out from under the bed.

"That's not the right one," Goyle announced bluntly.

"And what makes you think that?" Crabbe asked rudely, not fond of being told that he was wrong by anyone.

"Because," Goyle said, holding up another case. "This one is smaller and was _by_ his bed, not _under _his bed."

Crabbe glared and shoved the large trunk very roughly back under the bed, while Goyle made a mess of Malfoy's things, searching for the gloves. When he finally found them he closed the case again and put it back by the bed, then left the room with Crabbe following behind.

Of course, neither of them knew that when Vincent Crabbe slammed the trunk under the bed, it knocked a small cage over. And when that small cage hit the wall, the lid un-latched, and a creature crawled out behind them and into the halls of the school.

* * *

Draco Malfoy had been at school for three weeks and still hadn't found a time to use his new pet on Harry. It seemed that there was always a reason not to. He didn't want to mess up a good chance, or to get caught. No, getting caught was definitely not a good idea. He sat at dinner, letting ideas run through his head.

The Slytherin vs. Gryffindor Quidditch match was scheduled for the next day. The first match of the year. How could he use that? He couldn't, he wouldn't be anywhere near Potter then.

He could drop the creature into Potter's bag after Potions or Care of Magical Creatures…even Defense Against the Dark Arts. No, that was far too risky. Too many people. Someone might see, or it might crawl out and escape before biting Harry. A better idea would be to scrape some of the venom off of it's fangs and somehow get that to Potter. Drop it in his drink? Yeah right, how would he do that? Next idea. Really, he could just let it lose in the Gryffindor Common Room and let it bite anyone in there. It would be fun to watch no matter who it got.

Draco considered that for a while. No, he wanted to use it on Potter.

Okay, before Potions tomorrow he would put the creature in Potter's desk. It hadn't eaten for a few days so hopefully when Harry reached inside he would get a bit of a surprise. No wait, tomorrow was Saturday. No classes. Monday. Monday he would finally do it.

Draco left dinner early, telling his housemates that he had homework to do. He chuckled to himself on his way back to the Slytherin Common Room. This would be great. Better than great.  
In fact, it would be - Draco entered the large room and stopped short. A dead cat lay on the floor.

It was disgusting. There were bits of fur matted in blood on the floor around the dead animal. A hole was eaten into it's belly. Draco resisted the impulse to be sick. Before he could react further, he was even more horrified. Something crawled out from inside the cat. And not just something, _his _something.

Draco reached down and grabbed it, wincing at the thick blood now on his hands. He ran to his room and knelt on the floor next to his bed. He reached under with one hand and kept a firm hold on the creature with his other. He was revolted at the way that it seemed to snuggle into his palm. He hadn't expected completely devoted to mean like this.

Finally he felt his fingertips brush the cage. He reached in just a bit further and pulled it out. He ran back into the Common Room after shoving the creature into it's cage and stuffing it back under his bed. He needed to find out how it had escaped, and make sure that it never happened again. But first, he needed to get that cat somewhere where no one would find it.

He looked around for anything to carry the dead animal in, and found a copy of The Daily Prophet folded on a table in the centre of the room. Quickly, he laid the cat on the paper and scooped up the fur on the floor, wrapping it all up in the paper. He could hear voices coming down the hall to the Common Room door. Draco tried not to panic, and picked up the bundle on the floor searching frantically for a place to hide it. He ran to a large figurine on a table in the corner and shoved the cat behind it. Just in time.

Millicent Bulstrode and her friend walked into the Common Room. Draco felt, once again, that he would be sick as he realized that the dead cat had belonged to none other than the girl standing in front of him.

"Alright, Malfoy," she greeted. Draco couldn't get himself respond. It was like his tongue and his brain had joined up to rebel against him. He just stared at her with his mouth open, hoping that he didn't look on the outside at all like he felt on the inside. Unfortunately for him, he did.

"Are you alright?" The friend asked, smiling nervously. "You look like someone died."

Draco tried not to freak out. It was just a coincidence that she had said that. She didn't know anything. How could she?

"I'm -" he lowered his voice to the right octave. "I'm fine. I mean, of course I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be? Would you just stay out of my business?" He was talking way too fast. He had to calm down.

Millicent was obviously annoyed. "What are you doing over there with that statue? And what's that on your hands?" She asked demandingly.

Malfoy looked down at his hand. His knuckles were white from gripping the statue. Which made the dark red blood stand out even clearer. He let go and hurriedly put his hands in his pockets.

"I don't have anything on my hands," He could have smacked himself. Now she knew that he was lying. "Would you just clear off and leave me alone?" He was almost yelling from panic.

Millicent Bulstrode stared at him angrily. Draco could feel the sweat on the back of his neck. "Let's go, Stacey," she said to her friend, "I have to feed Miss Prissy." She turned and walked haughtily from the Common Room. Draco swayed on the spot. He felt very, very faint.

As soon as the two girls left, Draco grabbed the dead cat and ran to his room. He pushed it under his bed, making sure that it was on the opposite side of his trunk from the creature. Then he double-checked the cage to make sure that it was latched tightly.

After thoroughly washing his hands Draco went directly to bed. He was completely drained of energy and very ready for a peaceful night of sleep. That was before the rest of the Slytherins got back from dinner. Even from his room he could hear Millicent Bulstrode asking about her missing cat. That settled it. He would not be able to sleep that night. He really shouldn't leave a dead animal under his bed anyway.

He had to sneak out and bury it somewhere. Right, once the Common Room was empty and everyone in his dorm was asleep. Draco rolled onto his side and tried not to think about either of the things under his bed.

* * *

"Right, how can they honestly expect us to get this done -

- on top of all our other homework -  
- and personal things we have to do -  
- not to mention any detentions we might have picked up -

- all before the Quidditch game tomorrow?" Fred finished with a disgusted look.

The Gryffindor Common Room was as crowded and noisy as on any evening just after dinner. Perfect cover for the Weasley Twins to persuade their little brother to finish their homework for them.

"Ron. We've got an unbelievable amount of important work that we have to get done. And we don't have time to go down to the library for this one assignment." Fred reasoned to his younger brother.

"I've got stuff to do too." Ron said, determined to not give in this time. "I've got loads of my own homework and Harry and I were going to visit Hagrid tonight."

George rolled his eyes. "It's a Saturday! I'm sure you can find time between all that to work on one simple charm for us. Really. How many times have we helped you out when you were in need? Answer us that, little brother." he demanded, poking Ron accusingly.

"Without demanding payment, never," Ron replied bravely, glaring at George. "I'm up to my room to finish my Potions essay, and my Astronomy chart, and my Charms practice." Ron said, heading for the stairs to the Boys Dormitories.

"And _while _you're working on Charms," said Fred, grabbing Ron's arm before he could walk past him, "you can get us the result of the spell _Trilos Oblu, _right Ron?" Fred gave an exasperated sigh. "Listen, if you don't do this for us, we'll have to do it -

- and if we have to do it, we won't have time to get _our _stuff done _and _make it to the Quidditch meeting tomorrow morning -

- and if we don't make it to the Quidditch meeting, Wood will get…"

"Alright, I get it!" Ron pulled his arm free and glowered at his brothers. "…Fine, I'll do your bloody homework. One of these days I'm going to write Mum and tell her what you two gits do to me."

The Twins each raised an eyebrow and smirked.

Ron stomped the rest of the way to the stairs. "We'll never forget this, Ron!" They called in unison after him.

Ron didn't look back.

"Well Fred, shall we finish our important work?" George grinned. "The little whiner has Hermione do half of his homework anyway."

Fred laughed as they sat down on a couch in the corner and resumed their game of Exploding Snap.

* * *

Come 2:30 AM, Draco was creeping down the dungeon halls on his way out of the school. He was carefully carrying the cat wrapped in newspaper. He had to bury it somewhere on the grounds where no one would notice.

Malfoy stopped suddenly. Faintly, he could hear Peeves in the hall next to him, banging on the walls and singing a version of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" that does not bear repeating. Draco had to get outside, fast.

He walked quickly and quietly through the closest door leading onto the school grounds. Once outside, he decided to take the cat down to Hagrid's garden and bury it there, where nobody would notice a small lump in the dirt.

Draco hurried to finish his task, digging in the lose dirt with his bare hands. As soon as the cat was buried he ran back to the castle and crawled into bed. He felt much better now that there was no evidence against him. And in two days he would finally get to use his creature on Potter.  
Draco smiled and fell asleep almost instantly.

When he woke up, Draco had forgotten about the drama of the night before. All that he was thinking about was beating Gryffindor in the Quidditch match this afternoon. He dressed quickly and walked into the Common Room, only to be confronted by Millicent Bulstrode.

"You did it, didn't you? You took my cat." She looked angry to the point of tears.

"What are you talking about?" Draco sneered. "I didn't even know that you had a cat." He found that it was much easier to lie when you had gotten rid of all proof against you.

"I don't know what you did, but I'll find out. She was fine before I left for dinner last night, and then she was gone. And you were the only person back here before me. If you've hurt her Malfoy, I swear I'll hurt you." She turned and walked to the Girl's Dormitories.

Draco tried to laugh, but was already nervous again. He really didn't need someone trying to prove that he had done something wrong while he had a most-likely illegal magical creature right under his bed.  
And really, Bulstrode was bigger than him, and probably would carry through with her threat of hurting him. The best idea was probably to try and avoid her for a while. Right now he just needed to get ready for Quidditch.

Later that afternoon Draco stood in the Slytherin locker rooms minutes before the game. He pulled his green Quidditch robes over his head and reached for his gloves. But no, they weren't in his locker. Maybe he had already put them on the bench behind him? He turned and checked. No, they weren't there either. Of course! It was the first match of the year. He hadn't even taken them out of his trunk yet.

"Crabbe, Goyle!" He called to the two Slytherins waiting by the door without turning to look at them.  
"Go and get my gloves from my trunk. The small one, by my bed. And be fast about it, the game's starting soon!"

Crabbe and Goyle nodded and walked out of the locker rooms and toward the dungeons. Once they reached the dorm room, Crabbe walked to Draco's bed .

"Here, he keeps it under here," he grunted, pulling a very large trunk out from under the bed.

"That's not the right one," Goyle announced bluntly.

"And what makes you think that?" Crabbe asked rudely, not fond of being told that he was wrong by anyone.

"Because," Goyle said, holding up another case. "This one is smaller and was _by_ his bed, not _under _his bed."

Crabbe glared and shoved the large trunk very roughly back under the bed, while Goyle made a mess of Malfoy's things, searching for the gloves. When he finally found them he closed the case again and put it back by the bed, then left the room with Crabbe following behind.

Of course, neither of them knew that when Vincent Crabbe slammed the trunk under the bed, it knocked a small cage over. And when that small cage hit the wall, the lid un-latched, and a creature crawled out behind them and into the halls of the school.

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**You know that you want to let that little review inside of you out. Go ahead...click the button.**


	3. Gryffindor vs Slytherin

**AN: Yay!! The first Fred chapter! Draco was getting on my nerves. :) I had so much fun writing this – my very own Quidditch match. I hope that you have fun reading it!**

The Gryffindor Quidditch Team entered the field. Fred Weasley grinned while the on looking fans whistled and cheered enthusiastically. Despite the pouring rain, it still felt like a great day for the game. Gryffindor against Slytherin, everyone loved this.

The Slytherin's oppourtunity to cheer came as their team stalked onto the Pitch. Draco Malfoy was wearing his regular sneer, though he didn't look quite as self-assured as usual. And he shouldn't. This game would be a shining victory for Gryffindor House if Fred had anything to do with it.

"Captains shake hands." The usual glares masked behind a courteous handshake. Or, not so masked on Marcus Flint's part.

"Mount your brooms."

At the shrill sound of the whistle Fred pushed off and was fifty feet above the ground in seconds. It was clear from the start that this was not going to be a good game for his team. Fifteen minutes into the game, the Slytherins were already ahead. Fred searched the pitch for a target to send a Bludger towards.

Alicia might do…

She had dropped the Quaffle for no apparent reason, and it was now being carried, very quickly, back the opposite direction by a Slytherin Chaser.

"Warrington of Slytherin has got the Quaffle," said Lee Jordan, "and he's making good time on his way back towards the Gryffindor goal posts."

Fred set off, hoping to cut in front of the rival chaser before he reached Wood. But sometimes owning a Cleansweep had serious drawbacks. And where was George?

Brilliant. Fred knew that he had no chance of catching up to the Slytherin in time, and his fellow beater was no where to be seen. The last thing his team needed was to be another ten points behind.

Fred heard a familiar whizzing sound behind him and glanced over his shoulder. He spun to the left just in time to avoid a Bludger flying past his head.

Oh, there's George!

The Bludger continued past him and reached it's target. Warrington.

"And the Quaffle is back in Gryffindor possession, thanks to a very well sent Bludger from George Weasley!" Lee's announcement allowed many Red and Gold clad fans to let out a sigh of relief. "Johnson now has the Quaffle and is speeding across the pitch. Awouch! Well Done! She narrowly dodges a Bludger and keeps right on flying."

Angelina sped up, focusing only on getting the Quaffle across the pitch, though she was aware of the fact that the Slytherin chaser Montague was right on her tail. Fred watched from the other side of the field. "_Almost there, almost there. Come on, pick it up Angelina."_ Montague cut in front of her and made a grab for the ball in her arms. She ducked momentarily and came up behind him. But by now the rest of the Slytherin team knew what she was doing. Katie Bell flew closer to the center of the pitch, dodging Malfoy to make herself open. Angelina passed the Quaffle to Katie who caught it neatly and raced towards the opposing goal posts. The enemy keeper was currently distracted by a stray Bludger shooting towards his head, but was quickly regaining his wits, however few they may be. "_Let's go Katie, now's your only chance."_ Fred wished that he were close enough to help with a projectile Bludger.

She seized the opportunity and threw the Quaffle. It spun straight towards it's mark. But unfortunately, the Slytherin keeper saw her move, and flew to grab the soaring Quaffle. There was no way that he would miss it, he was so close.

Okay, there was one way he could miss.

"THE QUAFFLE IS IN! George Weasley saves it again! That brings the score to a tie. Gryffindor- 30, Slytherin- 30."

A moan came from the general area of the Slytherin stand. The Gryffindor players were not too busy congratulating George and Katie to miss the loathing glares that they were getting from their opponents. It was obvious that the Slytherins were not going to give up without a fight.

Fred passed a congratulatory wink to his twin and prepared to continue the game that was, miraculously, starting to look up. He flew upward to the Gryffindor goal posts to guard their keeper from very unfriendly, very heavy balls.

The game was already in full action again. Chasers trying desperately to keep the Quaffle in their team's possession, while still attempting to keep from being de-broomed by a Bludger. No movement from either of the seekers though.

Fred watched his twin knock the Quaffle clean out of Flint's arms with a Bludger. George laughed and waved at the furious chaser with his bat before starting off after the other Bludger, which was heading straight for Angelina. Fred noticed the Slytherin team captain yell something to his two beaters, Derrick and Bole, who were both close by to him. Probably telling them off for not pummeling George while they had the chance.

At the sudden commotion above him Fred looked up. The Quaffle was rushing towards Wood. The game had just not been going very well for him today. - Fred grimaced. That just might have something to do with the Dizziness Dainty that he and George had, uh, _tested _on Oliver the night before. The result had been Wood passing out on the floor of the Common Room and not waking until after breakfast the next morning. Apparently the mixture on that one was just a _bit_ stronger than the others. - One of the Slytherin chasers had flown round behind the goal post and caught the Quaffle from a team member before circling back on the far end. From the surprise and panic on Wood's face, he hadn't been paying enough attention to tell what had the Slytherin team had been planning. Wood did the only thing that seemed to have a chance of working, and simply sped on his broom to attempt to stop the Quaffle from scoring.

"Wood saves the Quaffle! Clever Montague, but not clever enough. Well done Oliver Wood." The Gryffindor supporters applauded jubilantly. "Not that I'm choosing sides Professor, 'cause I'm absolutely not." Jordan added.

Fred checked the position of both the Bludgers. Well, one was speeding towards Draco Malfoy. Good Bludger, that. One was missing, and a missing Bludger was never good. They had a nasty habit of sneaking up behind you and knocking you senseless and straight out of the game. They were also dangerous when you were this high above the ground.

Fred flew further into the Pitch, ready to set off and save a teammate. It was then that he saw Bole, currently in the process of hitting that one missing Bludger full-force, in George's direction.

"GEORGE!"

He spun towards Fred in surprise. The Bludger collided with the side of George's head and he slid off his broom. Completely unconscious. One-hundred-fifty feet above the ground.

Fred tilted his broom downward and flew as quickly as he could. He had to push his broom to go faster than George could fall. Closer, closer. Almost there. There!

Fred grabbed George's robes before he could fall any further. He slipped down his broom.  
100 feet from the ground.  
He had to slow down. Had to stop himself.  
75 feet from the ground.  
Fred pulled up on his broom with his free hand. George was slipping though… he couldn't hold both.  
50 feet.  
Fred gripped the broom with his knees and grabbed his brother with both arms. There was blood covering George's face. He couldn't stay on the broom, it was going too fast.  
25 feet.  
He was slipping anyway. Now or never.  
10.

Fred tightened his grip on George and let go of the broom. They both crashed eight feet to the ground, one on top of the other.

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**AAHHH!! What will happen to our pretty twins?? Leave a review and I just might tell you :) Okay, I'll tell you anyway, but I would still really, really, love a review. Otherwise, I shall feel worthless and cast the Killing Curse at myself. Then how would you feel, hmm?**

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	4. Don't mess with the Weasley Twins

Fred sat up slowly and wiped rain and mud from his eyes. Professor McGonagall was already on the field, running towards them. Madame Hooch was kneeling next to him and looking at something. What something? George! Of course! No, why of course? He couldn't think straight. And who could expect him to with his head pounding like this? Lee Jordan's voice was talking continuously, though Fred couldn't make out a single word that was said. Whatever it was, it didn't sound polite. 

"My Goodness! Are they alright?" Minerva McGonagall's voice reached them from several feet away. Madame Hooch was leaning over George. McGonagall gasped when she saw his blood soaked hair and face.

"I don't know," Madame Hooch sounded worried, "let's get him up to Poppy straight away."

Fred stood as quickly as he could manage. He was going anywhere George was, he knew that much.

"Oh goodness, let me see him." Madame Pomfrey was hurrying across the grounds. She reached them and kneeled next to Madame Hooch. "I heard the commentary from my office and- Oh dear." She murmured a spell and some of the blood cleared from the side of George's head.

By now a small crowd of students and teachers were standing next to the three on the ground, along with the Gryffindor team.

Pomfrey looked up at Professor McGonagall. "It looks like he cracked his skull, I need get him inside. We have got to hurry before he loses much more blood. It's quite bad Minerva."

"Clear out all of you," Pomfrey called to the students now crowding around, "Professor Lupin, would you please help me get Mr. Weasley up to the Hospital Wing?"

The Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor stepped past the Quidditch team and gently lifted George while McGonagall turned to Fred.

"Are you alright?" She put a hand on his shoulder. "It looked like you landed underneath your brother."

Fred stared at her, completely bewildered. There was George, currently losing copious amounts of blood from the head. And yet here she was asking him if he was okay because he fell off of a measly, bloody broom!  
He decided not to press the issue.

"Yeah I'm fine, great." He said quickly, turning back towards George who was now being carried in the direction of the school.

"Fred, if you're okay, we've still got a game to play." Wood looked to Madame Hooch. "We are finishing the match, aren't we ma'am?" He was clearly praying the answer would be yes.

"I'm not sure Wood. I think… Wait just a moment. What do you think Minerva?"

McGonagall looked distracted and worried. "Let them play, it will give them all something to do. I am going to see if Pomfrey needs any kind of help."

"Right then. Captains, get your teams assembled!" Madame Hooch said loudly, causing students that had started to go back inside hurried toward their seats. Oliver Wood turned to his team, grinning like they had just won the Quidditch Cup.

"Okay people, we're going to go with the…" his expression turned from jubilant to sick. He moaned and covered his face with both hands. The team just stood and waited, they were used to this.

Finally he said something, "There is no way we will be able to use that plan I showed you at practice yesterday with only one beater, and it's all that I had planned to keep us winning. We'll have to think of something else, and fast. Come on, something, something…." He snapped his fingers distractedly.

"Oliver, this is easy," Alicia stated, rolling her eyes, "Call a break and use a replacement. Jamie Riddsen really wanted to play beater this year." Wood looked doubtful. It was hard to picture Fred cooperating well in a planned play with anyone besides his twin. "Jamie has been practicing all year," she continued, "even if he isn't as good as George, apparently we need him."

"We don't need Riddsen," Fred was staring at the window of the Hospital Wing. Until Oliver reminded him, Fred had forgotten about the game. Now he remembered everything, including that there was no way that Bludger hitting George was an accident. He turned to his team. "And we don't need your plan Wood, we can win without it."

He wasn't even going to bother talking to a teacher about what had happened. He knew how that worked, there wasn't any way he could prove it. Anyway, he was sure that Lee had already tried his hardest. But there wasn't a chance that anyone was going to keep him from getting revenge. The Slytherins were not going to get out of this easily. Fred flexed his fingers and gripped his broom tightly, ready to kick some wimpy Slytherin rear.

"I've always known that George Weasley was a complete idiot, but even I expected that he could at least stay on his broom. How that one ever got to be on even the Gryffindor team I'll never understand." Draco Malfoy's comment was easily heard by all who were standing nearby. Including Fred.

All of the loathing that Fred was feeling towards the entire Slytherin Quidditch team was now focused to one person.  
Draco.

* * *

"I've always known that George Weasley was a complete idiot, but even I expected that he could at least stay on his broom. How that one ever got to be on even the Gryffindor team I'll never understand." 

Draco Malfoy was feeling very good about himself. Nothing helped a victorious mood like a good insult. And now it was time to get back to his game, and win.

He took off into the air once again and immediately started looking for the Snitch, turning his broom in a complete circle for a quick scope of the field.

There was Potter on the other side of the pitch, looking ridiculous in those rain-proof glasses. Draco smirked. Potter looked stupid no matter what he was wearing. Okay, no time for this. Back to finding the Snitch.

Draco hated games in the rain. As if it wasn't hard enough already to find a miniscule, flying ball that is actually trying to keep away from you. He circled the pitch a few times, with no success. He was about to fly to the centre and start over again when a feeling of dread seized him. That Bludger heading directly for his chest could not be a good thing.

He let out a scream and spun onto his side to avoid being hit. The wind pulled at his robes as the Bludger passed over him by inches. He righted his broom and spun in furious circles to make sure that the Bludger was not coming back for him. Amused laughter sounded beneath him, and he looked over the edge of his broom to see Fred Weasley, grinning up at him. Fred laughed again before flying off down the pitch.

Oh…Weasley would pay for this.

But Draco had no time to further plot against Fred, as a glimmer of gold had caught his eye. He quickly started off after the Snitch. Too quickly. Potter saw him and followed in the same direction.

So now it was just a race. Nimbus 2000 against 2001.

Draco was determined to beat Potter this time. He leaned forward on his broom and sped up. Harry circled around so that they were headed toward each other, the Golden Snitch between them. Draco still had a head start and a better broom. If he could just keep it up he would make it.

He leaned forward a bit more. Harry did the same. Stupid git. Draco accelerated his broom to top speed and reached out his hand. Time seemed to have slowed down just to torture him. Potter tried to push his broom further, but it was already at it's fastest.

Draco stretched his fingers and was almost able to touch it. The Snitch. He was finally going to do it. He was finally going to beat Harry Potter! He reached out once more. This was it! Then -

A flash of ginger hair, panic, and a Bludger front and center. Draco went flying backward off his broom.

"HARRY POTTER HAS THE SNITCH!!! THAT'S THE GAME! Final score Slytherin - 60 Gryffindor - 190!" A deafening roar came from hundreds of triumphant students in the stands. "Gryffindor! Gryffindor!" The chant worked its way from one end of the pitch to the other until nothing else could be heard. Only Madame Hooch paid any attention to Draco Malfoy lying whimpering in the sand below.

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**Do I get a review for letting the Gryffindors win?? Considering what I could have done, I think I deserve it…**


	5. The devoted creature

**A/N: Here's another chapter! To anyone that is reading my other story - sorry that it is taking me so long to update!! It's a mixture of writer's block and just being busy. Some Scientist or somesuch needs to invent a cure for writer's block. It seems to be an alarmingly common problem.**

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"You may go now, Mr. Malfoy." Poppy Pomfrey walked out of her office and to the side of Draco's Infirmary bed. She'd had quite enough of his whining and moaning for one day.

"What?" Draco squeaked indignantly. 'I've just had three cracked ribs and you're already sending me out? That's ridiculous!"

Madame Pomfrey started collecting the various bottles and powders from the table by his bed. "I'm sure that your ribs are perfectly healed by now. You'll be sore for a while, probably a couple of days. But all of your bones are whole again." She used her tone that said that she would not tolerate talking back. Apparently it was good, because even people like Malfoy listened.

Draco sat up slowly and held both arms tightly across his chest. With a small whimper he glared accusingly at Madame Pomfrey who just smiled briefly at him before walking a few beds down and stopping next to George, who was still unconscious.

"I'll never understand why people feel so compelled to continue playing that game. Where's the glory in chasing a few balls around the sky and getting yourself knocked off a broom," she muttered to herself while parting his hair to check the side of his head again.

There had been many visitors for George earlier that day, but most had left or been kicked out by Madame Pomfrey. The only ones left were Harry Potter and the other Weasley children, all sitting on chairs around George's bed.

"Well," she started, turning to her patient's twin, "his skull is completely healed. It looks like everything is back to normal. He's lucky, really. That Bludger could have done a lot of permanent damage."

Fred looked up from George and smiled at her. "Thank you, ma'am." He said simply.

She smiled back at him. The Weasley Twins had always been polite to her during their _many _stays in the Hospital Wing. "And now that you all know that your brother is going to be alright, it's time for you to go to your Common Room for bed." She held up a hand as protests started. "It's late and obviously it's been a long day. Now out, all of you. You as well, Draco."

Draco grimaced and stood up painfully slowly, receiving many simmering glares from the other four students leaving the room. As soon as they exited the Infirmary, Fred and Ron cornered Draco against the door.

"So, Malfoy, why'd your team go after George." Fred said quietly.

"I had nothing to do with it, Weasley. I haven't got a clue why they would waste they're time on getting someone as completely worthless as him out of the game." Draco replied, not so quietly. "And I'd appreciate you keeping your filthy hands off me, before you injure me again" he said, looking down to where Fred had grabbed the front of his robes.

"Come on you two, let's just drop it, before someone hears." Ginny urged, pulling on Fred's shoulder.

"But, Ginny," Ron said, "he -"

"She's right Ron." Harry shrugged. "Let's just go to the Common Room. George will be awake in the morning."

Draco stared Fred down until he left down the hall with the rest of his siblings.

Then he finally took a breath. This could definitely be classified as one of the most horrible days of his life. Or, at least, that was how he felt at the time. For a second time, he had lost to Gryffindor, and now he had to go back to the Common Room and deal with all of his housemate's glares.

Draco sulked his way to the Slytherin Common Room and hesitated before opening the door. It was amazing how fast Slytherins could start to hate you when you messed up. Finally, he got up his nerve and walked inside. Much to his joy, everyone else had gone to bed. meaning it was either later than he thought, or they had taken the loss very badly. Either way, he had the Common Room to himself. He lounged on a couch facing the fire and re-ran his plans for the next day through his head. He would have plenty of time to make it to potions early - and then he would finally give Potter what he deserved. Yeah….

* * *

Fred lay awake in bed. Something felt wrong. George had been in the Infirmary overnight before, and Fred had been fine, but this time, it just wasn't right. And that wasn't something Fred could ignore. 

Quietly, he pulled a red, somewhat worn jumper on over his pyjama top and crept out of his room and down the stairs. He was well trained at moving quietly through the halls - four years of trouble-making at Hogwarts can give you that. He slipped in through the door of the Infirmary and walked to George's bed. Thankfully, the other students had been keeping out of injury, leaving the Hospital Wing was empty besides the two of them.

Fred pulled a chair next to his brother's bed and sat down. He already felt better, though something still seemed off, like this was just not a good night. It must just be the stress from the game and maybe something from that fall off his broom.

Fred leaned his head back against the chair, yawned, then completely relaxed. He hadn't realized how tired he was until he sat down. In fact, he was so tired that, that he might just…you know…just…fall…aslee……

His head rolled onto his shoulder and his breathing evened out. But no sooner had Fred fallen asleep than something else entered the room. A small, black beetle-like creature squeezed through the crack under the door and crawled toward the smell of a fresh meal.

* * *

"_MEYOW!_" 

Draco woke with a jump and fell off of the couch. He had fallen asleep thinking about his plans for Potter, so how the hell had he ended up dreaming about Miss Prissy's ghost chasing him through the dungeons?! He rubbed his face and stood up, then walked sleepily to his room. Hopefully there would be less nightmares in his own bed

Draco sat on the edge of the bed and crawled into his blankets, already thinking happy thoughts about poisoning Harry Potter. And on that thought, he really should check on the creature again before he went to sleep.

Malfoy practically rolled off the bed and reached underneath it to the spot behind his trunk where he had left the cage. It wasn't there.

Draco stuck his head under the bed and reached in further. This was not good. What if someone had found the creature and taken it to a Professor? The panic accompanied by that thought caused him to crawl completely under his bed and feel around. Then finally, he found the cage. Malfoy let out a very loud sigh of relief and crawled back onto his bed with the cage in his hand.

That was close. He didn't even want to think about what would have happened if -

Draco caught his breath and tried not to scream. The creature was once again not in it's cage.

**

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**

The hideous creature's legs clicked as it scuttled quickly across the cold floor, making steady progress toward the sleeping twins. It crawled through the room, stopping next to the foot of George's bed. Sniffing the air and the ground, it searched for more of the smell that it had gotten at the door.

Slowly, it crept across Fred's foot, it's pointed legs making prints on his bare skin. The creature continued along the floor, then grabbed a bit of the blanket that was hanging to the floor and crawled up, onto the bed. Yes. Here was a lot of the smell.

* * *

Draco ran through the halls carrying the creature's empty cage. After frantically searching his dorm room and the Common Room without finding anything, he had remembered that the creature would be following his scent, and who knew how long it had been out? The only thing to do would be re-trace his steps as quickly as possible. First destination, the Hospital wing.

* * *

The creature walked across the blankets, up George's arm and across his shoulder. There, it raised it's fangs, and sank them both deep into the side of it's victim's neck.

Draco ran through the infirmary doors just in time to see the creature take a bite out of George.  
He stifled a shriek and grabbed it, throwing it into the cage, then stopped and realized what had just happened. George Weasley was infected? What did that mean? What would happen now?

He didn't have any more time to think though, Fred was waking up. Draco looked around, panicked. He needed someplace to hide, fast! He dropped to the ground and pulled himself under George's bed, hardly breathing.

* * *

Fred opened his eyes slowly and lifted his head. It took him a couple of moments to remember where he was and why. He rubbed his neck, sore from sleeping sitting up.

Maybe he should go back to his room, before Pomfrey comes in the morning? He thought about it. He still didn't know why, but he didn't want to leave George. So he wouldn't.

He stood and took a blanket from the bed next to George's, not knowing of course that in doing so he had almost stepped on a petrified Draco Malfoy's fingers. Fred pulled his brother's blanket up over his shoulders before sitting down again. Then he pulled his legs up onto the chair and rested his forehead on his knees. Within the next minute he was snoring peacefully.

* * *

Draco slid out from under the bed as soon as he was sure that Fred was asleep and crept to the door. Once outside, he slid down the wall with his eyes tightly shut. What was he supposed to do now? He raised a shaky hand to his tight throat as he realized the predicament he was in. He had never imagined something like this happening. Especially to a Weasley! His eyes stung. Now the entire Weasley family would be involved. 

But everything could go as planned, right? Draco angrily pushed a tear off his cheek. If he can use it on Potter, he can use it on a Weasley! Tomorrow, he'd put the creature in Potter's desk like normal. He'd just have two shows to watch.

But then, it might be a good idea to wait and see what happens. If more than one person was acting different, it would look more like a disease and that would be very suspicious. Draco stood and wiped off his face. Right, he would wait until he knew what this mood-changing looked like and then decide what happens with Potter.

Before he got back in bed he put the cage in his small trunk, then put his small trunk in his large trunk, and then pushed it all far under his bed. That creature would not escape again.

Now Draco just had to concentrate on making sure that tomorrow he did not look suspicious when things got strange.

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**_GAH! GEORGE!!_ What do you think will happen to our poor redheads next?? Please keep reviewing! It makes it so much easier for me to keep writing. Honestly, people don't review and I start getting paranoid that they don't like it.**


	6. A different George Weasley

**AN: And the plot...moves forward. First hint at George being affected by Draco's little scary creature thingy. He might not seem all that out of character yet, but trust me, it gets worse later. This is the sixth chapter - so I figured that in case anyone was somehow confused I should renew my disclaimer. **

**If I owned Fred and/or George - or really Harry or Ron or Draco - wouldn't be spending my time _writing_ about them. No, I would be doing...other things. Anyway...the point is, I in no way own Fred and George (or any of the places that they go, things that they see, people that they talk to). That would be JK Rowling (though really, she doesn't deserve them after what she tried to do to Fred). So now, on with Chapter Six!!!**

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**Early the next morning when Madame Pomfrey entered the Hospital Wing, she was not very surprised to see Fred asleep in a chair. It was common knowledge that it took a lot to separate the Weasley Twins. Still, it was against the rules, and therefore she prepared to lecture. 

"Mr. Weasley," she said loudly and sharply. Both of the Mr. Weasleys in front of her stirred, causing her to temporarily postpone what she was saying and walk to the side of George's bed. "Good Morning. You went through quite a lot yesterday, how are you feeling?"

George squinted his eyes shut and rubbed his hands over his face. "I don't know yet," he replied shortly.

"Well here," she said, reaching into her apron pocket and pulling out a small potion bottle. "You can take this for the headache that I am sure that you have. And when you do know how you're feeling, would you please tell me?"

George just muttered in response and accepted the potion. Lifting his head, he drank the contents of the bottle in one gulp, then dropped it on the floor next to him, much to the annoyance of Madame Pomfrey. Shifting comfortably onto his side, George noticed his brother for the first time.

"What's this, Fred?" He asked with a scowl, "Couldn't last a single night without me. What, are you afraid of the dark now? Why are you here?"

"I'm looking after you of course." Fred smiled, though he was obviously annoyed. "Do you remember what happened yesterday?"

George pushed himself onto one elbow. "Right, the game! Who won?" He asked eagerly.

Fred smiled triumphantly. "We did, thanks to some excellent Bludger pelting from me." He looked at George, expecting a prompt to tell his story, but George had laid back down and closed his eyes, ignoring him.

"Well, anyway," Fred continued, embarrassed. "Apparently the Slytherins got fed up of you beating them and wanted you out of the game. You took a Bludger to the head about halfway through."

"Thank you, Fred!" George said sarcastically. "You'd think I know about that much from this bloody headache." He groaned and sat up. "Look, I'm sorry. Obviously I'm not in the best of moods right now, so would you mind just leaving? Hopefully I'll be out of here soon. Though chances are they'll find some ridiculous reason to keep me locked up all day," he finished, glaring at the ceiling.

Fred just stared at him, entirely confused. There was something definitely wrong with his brother. Normally, George would be laughing about maybe getting out of History of Magic this afternoon and congratulating him about sending Malfoy flying off his broom. Hopefully he would come out of whatever was going on by the time he was released from the Hospital Wing.

Madame Pomfrey came out of her office. "I heard that last comment George. If you let me do one last checkup, you'll be out of here before breakfast. And Fred. You do realize that by staying here overnight you were breaking the strict rules of this school? I absolutely do not want to see you out past curfew again."

Fred apologised and assured her that she wouldn't, then said goodbye to George and left the room. He had quickly decided to forget everything that George had said and just move on. Everything would be completely normal soon.

* * *

Malfoy sat at breakfast trying hard to stay calm. It was unnerving waiting for George Weasley to make an appearance. This could turn out be a very interesting morning. 

Draco waited impatiently another fifteen minutes before Weasley arrived. Well, it was obvious at least that he was in a bad mood. He sulked to the empty seat next to his twin, folded his arms on the table and laid down his head.

Draco quickly finished his breakfast and decided that it was time to leave by way of the Gryffindor table. Trying his hardest to blend, he walked past the place that George was sitting.

"-to take a glance at an idea I've got for Filch?" Draco came into earshot in the middle of Lee Jordan's sentence.

Fred grinned slowly and turned to his twin with an all-knowing look that soon turned to frustrated. George was smirking at Lee, though there was obviously no humor involved.

"Why would we possibly want to listen to some moronic idea that you've come up with when we've got plenty of our own that we already know are better?" George asked, then looked confused as he seemed to realize what he had said.

George rubbed his temples and grimaced. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry… I've still got this headache. I just can't shake it off. That stuff Pomfrey gave me didn't help a thing. Speaking of ideas, though. We've got someth…."

Draco finished walking to the door. If that was as good as it was going to get, it was a big waste of money and time. Not to mention nerves. He didn't know what to expect at all really, just that the victim would do different, supposedly damaging, things. He really should try to find out… maybe in the library?

Draco stepped into the hall, and was knocked flat onto his back by someone outside the door.  
"Would you watch where you're going? He yelled, scrambling back onto his feet. He found himself face-to-face with Millicent Bulstrode. "Oh, you."

"Watch _yourself _Malfoy! I've told Professor Snape what you've done." She sneered and shoved past him.

Just great, Draco was on his way to potions now.

* * *

"Well, that was your regular waste of sunshine." Fred commented as he and George left the History of Magic classroom. 

"I wouldn't know." George said bluntly, rubbing his eyes to eliminate all evidence of sleep before his next lesson.

Fred looked sideways at his twin with a small smile. "Have you been awake for a single class yet?"

"Why do you care?" George glared demandingly.

Fred blinked slowly, taken aback. "I don't, I suppose. He stopped smiling and concern showed on his face. "George, what's wrong with you," he asked slowly. "I was just about to congratulate you. That's got to be near a record, sleeping through four classes straight without any notice."

George ignored the question and pulled his bag further up on his shoulder, continuing down the hall.

"Honestly, George," Fred spoke carefully. "I don't think that you have uttered one solitary amiable word since you woke up."

"No, and I don't think that you've stopped talking either." George looked straight ahead and sped up. Fred matched pace.

"That was to fill in for what you didn't say. I'm not a solo act."

George stopped walking abruptly and sent his twin an offended glance. "Act? We're a show?"

"Well, no-" Fred was cut off by George waving a hand in his face.

"You might not be solo, but I'm definitely not a duo." They stared at each other, George looking frustrated and angry and Fred looking confused and hurt, before George relaxed and turned, once again, down the hall. "Let's just get to Hagrid's. After Magical Creatures is dinner."

Fred stood, trying to understand what his brother had meant, "not a duo."

* * *

**Please, please, please. If you read this, review. I would be so happy to get a review saying that you hated every word of this chapter, I just want to know what people think. Just write a simple sentence. Even just a one word, "bad" or "good." _Please..._**


	7. A simple, innocent, practical joke

**AN: Sheesh. I caved. Normally I wouldn't post this until tomorrow or the day after...but I really _really_ wanted to do it today. So I told myself that I could put this up if I wrote anoter chapter tonight, and then...I did! Yeyah Me!! And all of you lovely readers get another chapter a day early. ) **"So, what's this great plan?" Lee asked excitedly. He had walked through the door into his dorm room a moment before to see Fred and George kneeling in front of George's trunk, rummaging through it's contents. "Have you got it? Whatever _it_ is."

* * *

"Of course!" Fred answered, glancing over his shoulder with an offended look. "You didn't think that we'd lose this little piece of brilliance after what we went through to make it?" He went back to pulling aside books, clothes, and other items that, knowing the twins, may or may not have been dangerous.

"Well, you wouldn't think so," Lee said, closing the door behind him, "but you don't seem to have it."

"Sure we do!' George pulled an old pair of trainers out of the corner of his trunk and reached in again. "Somewhere in here…. There! Got it!" He pulled a miniscule potion bottle out from inside a rolled up pair of mittens.

"It's a potion?" Lee asked, surprised. "Okay, what exactly have you planned here?"

"Just a little something we've cooked up for Alicia over the summer," Fred informed him. "As a result of her quite literally _obsessing_ about her fingers-" He held the bottle up to the light and looked at it. The liquid inside was a deep blue color. "A simple, innocent, practical joke. You know she made Quidditch practice almost unbearable for a while. Practically refused to catch a Quaffle if it might mean breaking a nail."

"A drop of this and it will take quite a bit to get them to stop growing." George took the potion from his brother's hand and pocketed it.

"Actually, all it would take is one more drop. It reverses itself. We figured that she would want them to stop growing eventually."

Lee grinned as he pictured the scene his friends were planning. Anyone that knew Alicia Spinnet knew that she was proud of her hands. They were always adorned with rings and bracelets, her nails nicely trimmed. This would be a bit of a shock. Fred and George grinned mischievously back at him.

"How did you come up with this?" Lee asked in awe.

George placed a hand on Lee's shoulder. "Sheer genius, my friend."

"That and very large gloves," Fred added, shaking his head ruefully. "You should have seen how some of our tests turned out!" He and George laughed together and walked for the door, Lee close behind. Fred couldn't help but think how it was amazingly nice it was having George back to normal. Yesterday had been terrible, but apparently he had gotten over whatever his problem was.

They walked into the Common Room and saw Alicia sitting alone on a couch in front of the fireplace with a half empty Butterbeer on the table next to her. Perfect. George grinned roguishly at Fred and Lee before walking towards the unsuspecting girl across the room. He took the potion out of his pocket and concealed it in his fist, then sat on the couch next to Alicia and slid his arm around her shoulder, putting his hand with the small bottle _right _next to her drink.

Within seconds George had Alicia laughing and in a conversation. Fred was already inwardly celebrating - She'd had this coming since last year.

He walked to the fireplace and smiled at Alicia, getting her to look at him and away from her drink. "I wanted to say again Alicia, great job in the game yesterday. Third year in a row Gryffindor has beat Slytherin!"

Fred saw George take advantage of the distraction and tip the bottle over her cup, pouring several drops of their concoction into the Butterbeer. No wait, that was too much. It only needs one drop. Fred looked urgently to his twin, asking with his eyes what was he doing. George winked slyly and turned back to Alicia, and Fred relaxed slightly. George must know what he was doing.

"Okay, what's up with you two?" She smirked suspiciously at both of them. George shrugged and shook his head. Fred folded his arms and leaned against the side of the fireplace, and Alicia picked up her cup, "I've known you long enough, I can see when you're plotting something." She lifted the drink to her lips.

Fred caught his breath in anticipation of the moment, then let it out and grinned in triumph as she set the cup back down. George pulled his arm out from around her and folded it behind his head, a smug smile on his face. She looked over at him.

Then a curious expression appeared on her face, a mixture of uneasiness and confusion. She jumped abruptly and looked down to her decorated hands. "Oh… oh my g-" her nails were slowly and steadily emerging out of the tips of her fingers.

Fred grinned at George who had sat up straight, and Lee was already laughing and was walking towards them from where he had been watching by the stairs. Then Alicia started breathing heavily and shaking.

"Fr..Fred… what?" She looked up at him and then at George, her face a mask of fear and even pain. Fred straightened and stepped toward her as she started to gasp and whimper softly.

Her nails were growing much faster than they were meant to. Fred glanced up at George who was, unbelievably, still smiling. Alicia had her fingers held straight in front of her and was staring at them with a horrified expression.

"Alicia, you okay?" Lee hurried the rest of the way to the couch and reached out a hand to hers. Her nails were already five inches longer than they were seconds ago. She let out a cry mingled with a small scream.

"I…It hurts!" She looked up at the two friends in front of her with tears down her face. "What ha..happened?" Alicia clenched her teeth to try to keep the sobs back. Fred knelt in front of her and looked closely at her hands.

His stomach turned and small panic gripped him as he saw small droplets of blood forming on the sides of her fingernails.. This had gone all wrong. She screamed again and threw her head against the back of the couch, her hands trembling in her lap. Her fingernails were growing so rapidly that they were cutting her skin and ripping out the back.

Fred stood quickly and laid a hand gently on her arm. "Hold on, I've got something to stop it." he said, thankful that they had made sure of a cure. Alicia opened her eyes wide and nodded at him, still shaking with sobs.

Fred turned to his brother and held out his hand for the bottle, but George stayed staring at Alicia, his expression solid and cold.

"George!" Fred nearly yelled. "Where is it?" He flinched as Alicia shrieked again. Her nails were over a foot long, with blood dripping steadily off of her fingertips. Fred turned back to his brother. "Give her the cure!" His voice was strained. George slowly turned his head towards his twin and blinked. Fred felt himself fill with anger. What the bloody hell was George's problem?

He reached for George's hand to take the potion for himself. Fred was sure that he saw George pull back slightly before opening his hand briefly to allow him to take the bottle. Fred searched his twin's face for a small sign of what was going on, then was shaken back to the present urgency by Alicia Spinnet's pained cry.

He turned back to her and slid his hand under her tense neck, as he pulled the lid off of the small bottle with his other. Fred quickly poured the remainder of the blue liquid into her mouth and urged her to swallow.

Alicia let out one last piercing scream as her nails retracted back into her skin, spurting small amounts of blood onto the floor as they went. She then broke into shaking sobs and grasped both of her hands tightly under her chin.

Fred reached around her and pulled her up into a hug, he himself still shaking from the ordeal. "I'm so sorry," he said quietly, "That wasn't supposed to happen…"

Alicia tried to reply, but wasn't able to get out much more out than a whimpering moan. The portrait hole to the Common Room swung open and Professor McGonagall climbed in, followed by a shaken looking first year. The eleven year old had apparently gone for her Head of House when she'd heard Alicia's screams.

Fred looked up over Alicia's shoulder to see McGonagall's shocked and frightened face staring down at them. Alicia slowly turned and faced the Professor, struggling to control her tears.

"What happened?" McGonagall asked immediately, searching the room for signs of a catastrophe. She walked briskly from the door the to the spot where Alicia, Fred, and Lee were standing, and for the first time Fred noticed the twenty or so students clustered around the small couch.

Minerva McGonagall put her hand on Alicia's arm and looked concernedly down at her. "Are you alright?"

Alicia nodded and blinked rapidly, and Professor McGonagall assumed a stern look and set her lips in their common straight line. "Now, someone tell me immediately what was going on here." She looked sharply from student to student, waiting for an answer.

Fred took a deep breath and described the situation - how a simple prank had resulted in a not-so-simple crisis. He finished his explanation and held up the empty potion bottle wearily. George sat silently through all of this, not once moving from his original spot on the couch.

McGonagall shook her head disappointedly and stared directly into Fred's eyes, making him feel overwhelmingly like a useless worm. He couldn't help but look down slightly.

"This… _foolishness._ Miss Spinnet, please let me see your fingers." Alicia held her hands out and let her Head of House look closely at them. There was still fresh blood smeared across her fingertips. Minerva closed her eyes slowly and gently closed her hand over Alicia's.

She looked back up at the girl in front of her and smiled sympathetically. "Go up to the Hospital Wing. I believe that Madame Pomfrey is still in."

Alicia nodded and smiled shakily back, but stopped before she reached the door. "Professor," she said quietly, "I'm not angry with Fred and George. It was an accident, I understand." She shrugged and smiled briefly at Fred, then turned and climbed out through the portrait hole, careful not to put much weight on her hands. Once she had left the room, Professor McGonagall turned back to the twins.

"How do you explain yourselves?" She looked over her glasses at one, then the other. Fred respectfully meeting her gaze, and George leaning leisurely against the arm of the couch. "I can't imagine how an idea like that got into your heads. A homemade potion to unnaturally speed human growth tested on a classmate."

Fred restrained himself from correcting her. They had tested it on themselves many times before this, George had just given Alicia too much. Fred didn't know why he felt so guilty, it really hadn't been his fault at all.

"I want the two of you in my office directly. We will talk more there." McGonagall's robes shuffled on the floor as she walked toward the door. Fred turned to Lee and George and gave a humorless laugh. He hadn't felt this tired in a long time. Anyway, that was three months of experimenting and testing wasted. More than wasted, actually for the worse.

He waited for George to pull himself onto his feet and then followed him out of the Common Room, leaving behind the steady buzz of students discussing what had just happened.

* * *

**Okee. By now, everyone on Fanfiction sites should know the routine. Reading is directly followed by - say it with me now - _reviewing_. That makes The Authoress happy and that makes the story turn out better! And it gives me more stories to read, because I love reading the stories of my reviewers! **


	8. Symptoms

**AN: So, this chapter is more of the same - but with _PLOT DEVELOPMENT!!! _And everyone knows how important that is. In this chapter, we get to see exactly what those "other details" Borgin had started to mention are. :) **

* * *

Fred leaned against the wall outside McGonagall's office. She had decided to talk to them one at a time. Most of the teachers had eventually learned their own techniques for keeping the Weasley Twins under control. 

George's face kept coming back to his mind. That cold, completely uncaring stare that he gave Alicia while she literally screamed in pain - pain caused by him. Fred had never seen George like that before, and honestly, it had scared him.

Fred's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door opening and closing loudly. George had apparently finished talking to the Professor and had left her office, smiling quietly. He walked past Fred and back towards the Common Room without a word or a glance in his direction.

Well, this shouldn't be too bad then. George seemed to have gotten off fine. Fred walked to the door and stepped inside. The chair on the opposite side of the desk from Minerva McGonagall was pushed several feet back and facing the wrong direction, apparently left that way by George. Fred pulled it back to it's place and sat down. He was prepared to defend himself against any misconceptions his Head of House might still have.

"Mr. Weasley," she began, "I have just been informed by your brother that you had not said anything to him about using your potion on Miss Spinnet, he had only helped you in making it. Is this true?" She stared expectantly at him.

Fred had not been prepared for this. "I…" Why had George lied? Fred couldn't believe it or understand it. In all of the dozens of detentions that they had gotten together this had never happened.

McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "Mr. Weasley?"

"Umm…ye- No. Yes…" Fred could barely tell what he was saying, yet it seemed that he had just said that George told the truth. Why?

"Really?" Professor McGonagall looked somewhat skeptically at him, and Fred just stared at her. He didn't have the will or the energy to reply. It seemed that everything in his life had turned upside down. He just needed to talk to George.

McGonagall folded her hands on the desk in front of her. "That was a remarkably foolish thing to try, whether in good interests or not. As a penalty, I believe that Mr. Filch could use some help cleaning out the Charms classroom tonight after that multiplying feather situation that Professor Flitwick's second year class got themselves into."

Fred leaned back slightly in his chair. A night spent under the command of Argus Filch. And no George to keep him company.

* * *

Apparently, Snape wasn't very interested in what Bulstrode had told him as he didn't say anything to Draco during or after class. All Slytherins and most other students knew that lying to Professor Snape was practically impossible, so Draco's only hope was that his Head of House wouldn't care enough to do anything about the missing cat. Apparently that had worked. 

Draco skipped lunch and went to the school Library for the third time in his life. He usually sent Pansy Parkinson to pick up the books he needed for homework.

He spent a good deal of time wandering around, trying to figure how to even find the book that he wanted, then trying to find out what book he did want.

He remembered that Borgin had said that most people considered this creature to be only a myth anymore, and settled on looking through, "_Magical & Mythical Creatures Revealed" written by Andella Samry. _He sat on a chair at the end of a tall shelf and browsed through the contents. It looked as though he had picked the correct book. He turned to the chapter marked Mythical and Extinct Creatures Around the World. It didn't take him long before he found a very accurate illustration of his creature. Beneath the picture was written:

_"This horrible creature is commonly thought to be extinct, though there have been rumors that it still exists in rarely visited regions. It was greatly feared by the people of…"_ Okay, pointless. Where does it say what will actually happen to someone who gets bitten? Here we go, two boring pages later.

_"The small monster's poison is very powerful and fast working, and always acts in exactly the same way. There are three stages of sickness that the victim will experience.  
During the first stage, The victim will have severe headaches and sleep excessively. They will also be angered easily and behave offensively, sometimes to the point of violence, having little regard for others and thinking of no one but themselves.  
During the second and considerably shortest stage, they will experience extreme paranoia and act irrationally, sometimes seeming delusional and very insecure.  
And in the third, the victim will return to their original mind, but will be violently ill. This sickness could result in death if not treated properly."_

He stopped reading. He had no idea that all of this would happen. Especially that last bit about possible death. If Weasley died there would be no one to blame but Draco, and no matter how little he cared for George personally, he never wanted him dead!

It seemed like everything wrong happened to him. Borgin had started to mention side effects. If Draco had known that they were this important, he would have allowed him to keep talking! Draco checked the book for any other useful information before returning it to it's spot on the shelf.

The book had said "_if not treated properly". _With Pomfrey here it should be able to be treated just fine. If not here, than the school would surely get Weasley to St. Mungo's if necessary. But what about _"to the point of violence"_? This was nothing like what he just saw George do at breakfast.

Hopefully it wouldn't get too out of hand. And even if it did, what's one less Weasley?

Draco tried to ignore the sick feeling he got as he thought that.

* * *

Fred entered the Gryffindor Common Room well past 1:00 AM in a truly terrible mood. He'd had plenty of time in miserable conditions, chasing feathers, to realize exactly how angry he was with his twin brother. 

There were no more than five students still up in the Common Room, George was one of them. Fred walked straight to the armchair that he was sitting in and started his outburst.

"What _exactly _were you thinking, lying about me?" He yelled down at his brother.

George looked back up at him with a mildly annoyed expression. "I was thinking about me. If you honestly think that I wanted to spend my night stuck with you and Filch you were deeply mistaken."

"Did you _want _to put Alicia in the Hospital Wing with that bit of 'creative genius' you had there? You knew as well as me that you were only supposed to use one drop of the potion!"

George stood up from his chair and raised his voice slightly. "Who made you my bloody conscience? Alicia's fine. She's upstairs now, in her room. And how was I supposed to know that would happen? You certainly never said anything."

"You cannot be blaming me again! I had _nothing_ to do with Alicia getting hurt. What's happened with you?" The few Gryffindors in the Common Room were staring at Fred and George in shock. No one had seen them fight like this before. Apparently they had woken some people upstairs, as there were loud footsteps from many of the rooms above them.

"Nothing, except that maybe I got clued in some!" George was yelling as loudly as Fred now. "No one around here is worth my time."

"Look, would you please drop this ridiculous "better than you" bit? I'm truly losing it!" Fred looked at him earnestly.

George gave him a perplexed look. "I missed what _any_ if it has to do with you!" He sighed, exasperatedly. "Look Fred, my life is completely separate from yours. Stop trying to act as if we share one, it's upsetting enough I have to share your face."

Fred stared in outraged astonishment. His throat tightened and it felt like his chest was caving in on itself. Though he tried to speak several times, he couldn't think of anything to say in reply.

George held his cold glare until Fred's gaze faltered. Fred stepped back slowly and then turned and walked silently up the stairs to the boys' dormitories. George was left standing in the middle of the Common Room, the astounded stares of fellow Gryffindors weighing down on him.

* * *

The next day Draco listened for any information on George Weasley's condition. It wasn't so hard to find out. Apparently George had been insulting and arguing with everyone and rarely seen anywhere near Fred. This was unusual to say the least, and certainly worthy of talk. 

He was looking forward to lunch, when he would finally get to see for himself. He walked into the large dining hall right in the middle of the excitement.

George was sitting backwards on a bench at the Gryffindor table facing Ron and Hermione, plus many other students who had come around to see what was going on.

"Stop dreaming Ron! You're walking around goggling at her in front of the entire school." George leaned back against the table and looked at Ron with a cold sneer.

"George! Please." Hermione seemed to be on the verge of tears.

Ron looked as though he was about to explode. Draco was sure that Ron had given his own share of comebacks earlier, but he wasn't making any move to stop his brother now.

"Everyone knows that she fancies Harry." George laughed shortly. "It's just a small matter of time before someone catches them snogging in an empty classroom. And as far as I'm concerned, the whiney little gits deserve each other."

Hermione let out a sob and walked quickly out of the room. Ron glared at his older brother a moment longer before stomping after Hermione.

Draco grinned as he watched George laugh quietly to himself and return to his meal, the rest of the students already whispering animatedly about what they had witnessed. This was definitely more like what Draco had pictured, and very amusing.

* * *

**AN: George_... tsk tsk_ ...for shame. Anyway. Do you know what I want for Christmas (besides, of course, Fred and George, should any of you dear readers happen to have them)?? Reviews, of course!! **

**Oh, and I just got Order of the Phoenix on dvd. So hopefully that will get me on track for continuing my other story, it being set in that year and all.**


	9. Out of Hand

**AN: Okay, here is a long chapter presented a day early as an aplology. My chapters will come quite a bit further apart from now on. Mostly because I realized that I really need to work on my other story more and also because I am getting behind on this one and will soon completely run out of story to post :(and that would be horrible.): So, here you have Chapter nine of To Separate a Twin: Out of Hand... **

* * *

Two days had passed, and if any of the gossip was true George Weasley had only become worse. Draco was enjoying himself as students got curious. He had certainly done well; no one would even consider that Weasley had been poisoned. Malfoy had almost his original plans for Potter and was just proud that he had come this far undetected. 

But Draco's troubles were not over. Millicent Bulstrode had pestered Professor Snape to the point that he could no longer ignore her problem with Draco. Snape approached Draco in the Slytherin Common Room that morning.

"Mr. Malfoy, I have been told that you took Miss Bulstrode's cat." He raised his eyebrows slowly in a way that clearly said he did not care whatsoever, but he _was_ Head of House. Millicent stood behind Snape with her hands on her hips, smirking victoriously at Draco.

Draco put on his innocent face. And that just meant smiling politely and trying to keep the regular sneer away. "Professor, I can't tell you anything that I haven't already told her. I never knew that she even had a cat until she accused me of taking it."

"So you have no ideas as to where her cat might be now?" Snape folded his arms.

No sir." Draco looked pityingly at Millicent. "You can ask anyone else, her cat is always running off on it's own."

Snape narrowed his eyes at Draco. "Malfoy, you just told me that you did not know Miss Bulstrode had a cat. But obviously, you did."

Draco was wishing desperately for a time-turner right about then. Bulstrode looked overjoyed. But unfortunately for all things good and just, Malfoy was very good at improvising.

"Sir, I only said that because that's what everyone else says happened." Draco tried his best to look sweet. "I was really just trying to give you as much help as possible so we could find Mil…_dreds_ cat." He said, clearly hesitating at the end. Millicent glowered at him.

"I'm sure that she appreciates your concern." Snape looked entirely unconvinced, but still like he couldn't care less. He turned to Millicent and gave her what he might have thought to be a sympathetic look before leaving the room without another word.

"Professor! Sir, wait! You can't actually believe all that _rubbish_!" All that Bulstrode got from Severus Snape was a glimpse of his robes billowing after him out the door. She turned to Draco, furious. "I saw you carrying that thing into your room. After the game, remember? I don't know what it was, but I'm willing to bet you're not supposed to have it. I'll get you somehow Malfoy. I swear I'll find my cat or I'll find a way to get you expelled."

She walked angrily to her room and slammed the door. Draco stood frozen to the spot. Someone knew about his creature! And not only that, it was someone bent on ruining his life.

* * *

"Katie!" Alicia Spinnet tossed the Quaffle over her shoulder to her teammate. Katie backed up to catch it and then passed it on to Angelina. 

"Fred, to you!" Angelina spun around and threw the ball.

Fred flew in front of the spinning Quaffle and waited for the perfect moment before sending it flying far down the pitch with a swing of his bat. "Harry! Go for it!" He yelled.

Harry, who had been flying about thirty feet above the rest of them, tilted his broom and sped down after the Quaffle. He caught up to it and grabbed it out of the air, then turned and raced back the direction that he had come. As he neared the rest of the team, he pulled back his arm and threw the ball as far as he could. "George, It's yours!"

George, instead of getting ready to hit the ball to Wood had been busy practicing barrel rolls on his broom. He righted his broom when he heard Harry yell, and without another thought involved, hit the Quaffle as hard as he could - sending it the opposite direction of his team and down to the ground.

"GEORGE!" Wood yelled from his place at the goal posts. "What are you _doing_? We're never going to get this right if you don't do your part!"

"Oops." George said with his face completely blank of emotion. He made no move to apologise or pick up the Quaffle. Oliver sighed and shook his head.

"Let's land, everyone. We'll finish with strategy work." The team started to the ground, but Fred flew over to George.

"Look, George. I know that you don't want to-" Fred stopped as he saw the cold glare in his twin's eyes.

"Bugger off, Fred." George said shortly. "You're right, I don't want to talk to you." He flew past Fred and started for the ground.

Fred hadn't ever before had any need to consider what his life would be like without George in it. But during the past two days he'd learned all too well. He had searched his mind continually for something that he or someone else had done to make this happen, but could find none. There had to be something else going on.

Eventually Fred followed his team to the ground. They were gathered around a chart that Wood was holding in front of him. Surprise, surprise, George was at it again.

"Wood. There is no point in me looking at this." He accented each word by tapping his bat against his leg. "I'm a beater, not a chaser. This is a chart….for chasers." He tapped the paper with a gloved finger and stared at Oliver like he needed serious mental attention.

Wood returned George's stare angrily. "George, I can't believe that I'm having to tell _you_ this. We're a team. I'm sure that you can wait for the girls to look at this."

"And if I don't want to?" George asked arrogantly.

"That's not an option." Oliver was obviously fed up with George's attitude problem. "If you mess us up once more, I'm taking you out of the next game." He stared evenly into his beater's scowl.

The team exchanged glances. George had been unbearably bloody-minded since the beginning of practice, but no one could be sure if Wood would actually carry through with his threat. Fred stepped closer from where he had landed behind George.

"We _can_ do without you, George." Oliver said.

Before anyone really knew what had happened, George's expression turned from defiant to livid and he raised his beater's club. There was a loud crack and the sound of Wood's yell. One of the girls let out a startled scream and Harry and Fred ran to George.

Fred grabbed George's arm just before he could bring his bat down on Oliver's head again. It took Harry's help to completely restrain him. The three chasers hurried to Wood and found him stunned and barely conscious, a trickle of blood running from his temple.

George let out a harsh laugh and shrugged out of Harry and Fred's grasps. He threw his bat on the ground next to him and smirked down at his team captain lying in the sand. "I hope you can do without me," George announced, "because I quit the team." At that he turned and stalked away from the astonished Quidditch team.

Hermione and Ron ran onto the pitch from where they had been waiting for Harry by the stands. "What happened?" Hermione asked urgently, looking after George's receding figure. Ron stood behind her, out of breath and clearly upset by what he had just seen his older brother do.

Katie and Angelina helped Wood to stand while Alicia supported his back. He pressed his hand to the side of his head and grimaced at the blood on his fingers.

"I'll go find a Professor." Angelina said hurriedly, already turning towards the school.

Fred reached out and stopped her. "No…" He dropped his hand to his side. "There's something wrong with George."

"Really?" Wood asked harshly, still holding him a palm to his forehead.

Fred shook his head exasperatedly. "I mean something happened to him, changed him. I need to find out what." He looked imploringly at his team. "You all know George. You know that this isn't him. Give me a chance to fix it before you tell anyone. Please."

Wood barely hesitated, then nodded, his face solemn. Hermione opened her mouth, but then closed it decidedly. The girls and Harry nodded as well, and Fred half-smiled gratefully. He raised his hand slightly toward their Captain's head. "I'm sorry Oliver," he said briefly before putting his bat on the ground next to George's and walking off quickly in the direction that he had gone.

* * *

Draco walked out if the doors of the school and towards the Quidditch Pitch with the rest of his team. He had just been shoved to the side of the hall by an irate George Weasley, then passed by his very dejected, yet still somehow determined looking twin - And apparently the fun didn't stop there. 

The Gryffindor team was on their way from the Pitch, and seemed rather out of sorts. Wood was obviously angry and worried and was holding his hand to a bleeding cut on his head. Malfoy couldn't help but be proud of what he had created, as he enjoyed imagining what had happened.

Potter, Weasley, and Granger were behind the rest, talking as they walked. Draco deliberately slowed as he walked closer to them.

"…thinking about what Fred said." Hermione was walking between them and staring, concentrated on the ground. "There might actually _be_ something wrong with George. Honestly, something magical."

Ron nodded slowly with a troubled look. "Yeah… But like what?"

"Ron, please. It could be anything." She chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. "Everything he's doing sounds like the results of maybe a mood-altering spell or potion, even a poison. I'm going to do some research right away. Maybe I can help Fred."

"It seems like…"

Draco finished walking past them as Potter started talking. He didn't want to hear anymore anyway. How had he not expected this? Of course Granger would investigate! He couldn't let her.

She would probably go to the library immediately, and likely find out as much as she needed before he could do anything. His mind raced with possibilities. The only obvious thing was that she had to be stopped. He had found the right book on his first try, and she had months upon years of research practice.

Draco and his team reached the Quidditch pitch and started warm-ups before he could decide what to do. The Slytherins still weren't very happy with him since he had missed the Snitch by so little.

He launched into the air and did his best to avoid the bludgers that his Captain had set loose, while still pondering his predicament as much as he could safely allow himself to.

During practice, his mind kept racing back to wondering what Granger was reading at that second. Had she figured it out yet? Had she guessed who was behind it all? Had she told a Professor?

His fears only got wilder during the next hour as he distractedly followed through with his practice routine. It eventually got to the point where he couldn't pay attention anymore. He had to get to the library.

His team had divided into two and was playing a miniature match that would last until Draco caught the Snitch. Well, they would just have to do without a seeker for a while. He left the pitch as non-conspicuously as possible, though he was sure that he heard someone calling his name far behind him as he ran for the school.

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**Reviews are greatly appreciated. I easily have half of this story left to write, so I still need as much encouragement as I can get. Thanks so much to Evenstar606 and Wondering What Breakfast Is (Julia) for the faithful reviews from beginning to end. And to Bad Mum for her recent reviews on both of my stories. It really does help me so much. :) I love to write, but unfortunately I am very frequently caught with the dastardly illness commonly known as Writers Block. Urgh... The only cure I know of for this particular disease is (bum ba _dum_) REVIEWS!!! **


	10. The second stage

**AN: Hey all! I'm back! I wanted to make sure that everyone understands that in this chpter, almost everything George says and does is a direct result of the poison continuing to take effect. As the chapter title says, he has reached the second stage. If you don't remember, you can read about what the second stage is in the eighth chapter of this story. :) Now, without further ado, the short but exciting (I hope, hehe)...Chapter 10.**

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Fred had noticed over five minutes ago that George was trying to lose him. He couldn't stop going though. He had finally realized that something had happened to George, someone had done something to him. That was the only explanation. He had to find a way to get his twin back.

He turned the corner into the next hall and caught the sound of a door closing towards the end. How did George expect to shake him off? They had gone through the entire school so many times together, he could easily predict where he was going to go next.

He hurried toward the furthest door on the left. Once he caught up with his brother he would just make him talk. Make him explain what was happening. He opened the heavy door and stepped inside the small and empty old classroom on the other side.

A pair of hands grabbed the front of his robes and shoved him up against the wall. Fred's head slammed onto the stones behind him, momentarily stunning him. He slowly opened his eyes and focused on the person in front of him, finding himself facing a furious George.

"Why are you following me?" George snarled through clenched teeth. "You can't just let me alone!" He roughly let go of Fred and stepped back.

"No George, I can't," Fred replied quietly, but confident. "Tell me what's gone wrong with you?" He stared evenly, demanding an answer.

"Why should I tell you anything?" George asked indignantly. "You don't give a damn about my life." He looked at Fred with obvious contempt.

Fred was already overcome with frustration. "Where'd you come up with that? Of course I bloody care!" He yelled, angrily.

George glared at him. "No, you don't. Or you would have helped me." The hurt in George's eyes was suddenly obvious.  
"Helped you with what?" Fred looked earnestly at his brother.

"With…everything!" George's face creased with unreadable emotions. "No one tried to make me stop. I just…kept on…talking!" He started to breath heavily and stared down at the floor. Fred watched him, confused and nearly frightened.

George was acting completely mad and Fred had no idea how to deal with it. He stepped forward a bit. "George. George, it's okay." He started to reach a hand towards his brother.

"No!" George jumped back so far that he was pressed against the wall and shakily rubbed both hands across his face. "No, no, it's not okay! You don't even know! This all…you all just planned this!" He was yelling at the top of his voice and gesturing wildly with his hands. "This is all your fault, Fred!" He quieted slightly, "You did this to me…" He gave Fred a hopeless and angry look, tears starting to show in his eyes.

Fred stepped forward once again and carefully extended a hand.

A sudden impact to his midsection caused him to double over, and banished the air from his lungs. Panic flooded his senses when he could not get any to return. A dull blow to his jaw clouded his mind and sent him to the floor.

He opened his eyes just enough to see George's leering features above him before a sharp pain lanced through his lower back like solid lightning, forcing a small yell.

Though he had little to no instinct in fighting, he knew he had to get off the floor. He fought the pain and confusion holding him down and rolled onto his hands and knees, then pushed himself off the ground forcefully.

Immediately after Fred stood, George's tightly clenched fist swung towards his face again. This time, Fred was able to avoid the blow by inches and launched his own punch by impulse. It caught right under George's cheekbone.

Fred couldn't believe what was happening. He was scared and in pain and did not want to have to fight George, but at this point it was necessary self-defense. He let loose his reflexes and hurled himself at his twin.

George instinctively lifted his arms to shield himself but was not able to stop Fred, who grabbed the shoulders of his school robes and swung him into the wall. Once he had George pinned, Fred took the opportunity to try and reason with him.

"George, I just want to talk to you. Would you please calm down for half a mo!" Fred pleaded with his twin.

George took a few shaky breaths, then slowly relaxed. Relieved, Fred did the same, and George's knee found it's place under Fred's ribs. George then brought down a tight fist on his brother's shoulder, forcing him to his knees.

Fred berated himself momentarily for being so stupid and so hopeful. He didn't have any idea what was going on, but he needed to end this. He sent his left arm out in front of him and grabbed George's leg behind the knee, pulling him down to the floor as well.

George wasted no time in launching another attack, and pummeled his elbow into Fred's chest. Fred fell backwards and was overtaken by unrestrained terror as his vision filled with a jagged white light.

The impact of George's knuckles cracking against his cheekbone slammed the side of Fred's head onto the cold floor beneath him, splitting the skin above his eyebrow.

George brought his fist down again and again, ignoring the muted cries of his twin beneath him. Finally George froze, his arm mid-air. He let it drop to his side and stood slowly. His face melted from the twisted, hateful, expression he had been wearing, until he was staring, dazed, at his brother's shaking form.

Fred barely noticed the stop. He didn't care anymore, he had just started crying. Sobbing. Tears hit the stone floor, mingling with blood from his nose and forehead. He rolled onto his side and pulled his knees up, then wrapped both his arms around them, hugging himself close as his only comfort.

George stared down at him, shocked and scared. "Fr..Fred?" he said, his voice little more than a strained whisper.

Fred didn't even open his eyes. He had had enough of trying. "Just push off…" he muttered quietly, tasting blood in his mouth as he did.

Even more quickly than it had softened, George's face once again grew hard and cold. He pulled his mouth back in a condescending sneer and walked for the door, kicking Fred once more in the shins for good measure. Fred flinched and closed his eyes tighter, squeezing two more tears down his face. He had never missed George so much in his life.

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**sniffle...poor Fred. Yeah, I know I_ really_ have no right to say that. :) Anyway...Did You Know...SomedayEngland likes reviews?? Hmm...comsidering that you are reading the tenth chapter of my story, you probably do by now. But guess what...I still do! So, care to make me happy? Just leave a simple little note. :) Oh, and I wanted to say thanks to Wondering What Breakfast Is for that note that she posted about me in the end of her new story. You're so nice Julia!! **


	11. The Whomping Willow

**AN: Okay, first off - OH MY WORD!! I have over 50 reviews! Thanks so much to everyone who shared their opinion. It really means so much and helps tremendously. :) **

**Secondly, I fear that my head is about to fall off. Though it may not seem so, I really have been working on getting out new chapters for this _and_ my other story, but yesterday my bloody computer for some reason _deleted_ half of the stuff I had worked on, and I have only recently finished piecing it back together. So, here is this at least. I hope that it all makes sense. This has been the hardest chapter to write so far. **

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Fred sat on the floor of his dorm, rubbing a thumb over his swollen lip. He had spent the last half hour, emotions battling mind over what to do about his twin. He had no idea what he was even trying to accomplish, but it was his duty as George's brother and friend to get this entire mess fixed. He had tried talking to George over and again, and things had only gotten worse. But he couldn't just give up without a fight!

Oh wait! There had already been a fight. Hence the blacked eye and aching ribs. Fred shook his head - he would just have to face the truth. There _was_ nothing else he could do. George would have to take care of himself.

But could he? If George had attacked anyone else, he would be in serious trouble now. And he had proved that he was capable of that with Wood. It wasn't fair for Fred to leave him like this when he obviously wasn't himself. Honestly, quitting the team? Something horrible had changed George and he either didn't know or wouldn't tell what it was.

If he was left to himself he would be expelled before anyone could find out. Fred couldn't let his brother be expelled in fifth year. He had to do _something -_ but being punched to a pulp in the meantime was not a very appealing idea.

The important thing was talking to George and finding out exactly what his problem was. And obviously just asking wouldn't work. Fred had to get him someplace where they wouldn't be interrupted and George couldn't hurt anyone. Not again.

All the events of the past four days had led to this - Fred had to get his brother from the school for a bit.

He stood hurriedly and scrambled to his trunk. Everything was falling into order in his mind. More than it had been before at least.

Fred laughed at himself and the insanity of the plan that was forming in his mind. Yeah, just about as insane as the way that his life had been recently. He reached into his trunk to where he and George had concealed an old piece of parchment. The Marauder's Map.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," Fred said forcefully, pressing his wand tip against the thin paper. This was most likely the first time that those words weren't completely true. Lines webbed their way across the map and Fred searched the familiar pages intently.

Where would be a good place? Fred had to make sure that by the time that the rest of the school realized that they were gone, they couldn't be found. He wouldn't stay out for more than two days - by then either everything would be fixed and they would explain to everyone why they had left, or Fred would be forced to return and to tell McGonagall - even Dumbledore - about George. They would have Madame Pomfrey take a look at him, and of course George wouldn't like that. So, he would throw a tantrum like he had at Quidditch practice and things would only get worse from there. Fred liked his plan better.

His eyes moved to a place on the Marauder's map where a secret stairway from the third to the fifth floor was marked. Maybe if they went halfway up the passage and stayed there? Then Fred remembered - during a fast escape after Filch seeing them sprinkling some sticking powder on a second floor landing, George had unfortunately dropped their bag of the stuff right outside the entrance to the stairway. The result had been them being caught - and, of course, sentenced to detention - and Filch discovering yet another of their getaway routes. But in the end, the stories of over a dozen Gryffindors and Slytherins being stuck on that landing together for over an hour after exiting class were probably worth the detention.

Fred smirked, then winced as his bruised face reminded him why he had the map out in the start. He looked back to the parchment at his remaining option, since the tunnel behind the mirror on the fourth floor corridor had caved in. The passage behind the statue of the old witch, that led into Honeydukes. That was it.

Fred swore and angrily smaked the map. His last option wouldn't work, as it wasn't really a secret anymore. He and George had shown Lee into the passage one time when he had been required to stay back from Hogsmeade for detention. Of course, now that would be the first place that Lee would look for them. Leaving school grounds was completely out of the question, meaning Fred was out of choices.

So now he would be forced to just sit back and wait to see what his twin did next. Fred started to roughly fold the parchment he was holding when he saw something interesting. He had forgotten one tunnel. One tunnel that he and George had never attempted entering.

They had noticed when they first aquired the map that there was a long passage directly under the Whomping Willow, and decided that it was time they take a look at the tree they had been warned of since their first day at school. With one glance from a good hundred feet away the two of them had decided that they didn't want to see it closer. But now, a closer look seemed to be just the thing for Fred.

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Fred stood at the top of the hill behind Hagrid's hut, staring down at the Whomping Willow. Something inside of him told him that this was a bloody stupid thing to do. But something even more persistant urged him forward.

Slow, uneven stpes led Fred toward the tree, which was menacing even in appearance. His eyes scanned the branches and base of the trunk for a sign of how to enter a tunnel under the ground, while his feet mechanically continued.

He was using the method that he and George had employed for years: Don't think - just get it done. But that worked so much easier when you had your best friend there to be an absolute idiot right along with you.

Fred attempted to banish his queasiness as he steadily approached the looming tree. It was a pointless action as he continued to feel more ill with every step. But still, a strange certainty pushed him firmly onward until he didn't remember why he was there at all - only that he needed to find that passageway.

Fred came to a stop a mere ten feet from the Whomping Willow and stared at it with his heart pounding at an unnatural rate. Wasn't something supposed to have happened by now? The Willow gave a small shudder, sending a dozen brown leaves into the air. The fact that there had been no wind did not escape Fred's attention.

He kept his eyes fixed on the motionless branches far above his head as he took another carefully planned step forward. With a loud snap, thin cords flung out from all sides of the tree, causing Fred to stare in frozen fear.

Before his mind could trigger to turn and run, two whip like branches wrapped around his chst and yanked him to the ground.

As he was pulled backwards toward the flailing tree, Fred uselessly tried to force his fingers under the thick cords holding him while his feet dragged through the dirt. Any and all progress he made was lost as he was jerked sharply upward.

Dread was replaced with pain and nausea as he was pulled helplessly through the air, though that quickly ended with a sudden drop, and he hit the ground in a crumpled heap.

Lifting his head painfully, Fred cracked his eyes open and peered through the hair thrown wildly across his face.

At the sight of more branches shooting towards him he scrambled to his feet with renewed terror and ran the only direction he could - toward the tree itself - pressing himself against the trunk.

One of the dozens of roped turned mid swing and snaked around the base of the tree to his left. Fred instinctively yelled out as he felt it wrap multiple times around his wrist. He jerked his arm back to his side and spun around, ignoring the sharp pain of the Willow's coiled grip cutting into his skin.

Fred stood with his bvack now against the tree, steeling himself to be pulled into the air once more. With his free hand he grabbed a large knot on the side of the tree, hoping to put up as much fight as he could. Instead of being a firm hold, the knot semed to shrink under his grip.

Fred didn't take the time to wonder why that was, but instead grabbed for another and closed his eyes tightly. He flinched as he heard the branches above him give a large shake, then - go still?

Fred pulled his eyes open when he realized that he could hear his own shaky breathing easily over the sudden silence. The tree had settled itself back to it's original position, now seemigly ordinary and peaceful. Fred glanced down to his sore wrist. The tree had unwrapped itself, leaving only a thin burn mark. He rubbed it distractedly, marveling at the fact that he was still alive.

A small breeze blew through the still branches of the Whomping Willow, making a whistling and scraping noise above Fred's head. He jumped away from the tree as fast as he could, expecting a renewed attack. When there was none, Fred slumped to the ground out of exhaustion and relief. He had figured out the Whomping Willow – and his arms and legs were sill intact.

Fred rested his head on his knees and swayed shakily, waiting for his overworked nerves to allow him to relax. Breathing slowly became easier, and he took a chance on using his legs. Once on his feet, Fred allowed himself a full two minutes of standing alert to confirm that the large tree he still stood beneath was through trying to kill him.

Cautious steps forward led him once again to the thick trunk. He rubbed his hand over the place in the bark that was now flat, where he had pushed the knot in. And now that he wasn't in mortal peril, he noticed something else - an opening in the roots of the tree, revealing a small set of steps. Fred let out a choked laugh and held a palm up to his forehead in an attempt to calm the pounding headache he had developed.

He felt none of the thrill that usually accompanied a new discovery, only a quiet relief that he had accomplished his goal. Fred pulled out his wand and descended the stairs, to a view if a long tunnel stretching in front of him. After a quick glance at his dull surroundings, he started down the passage.

He wasn't sure how long he walked, only that it seemed a good distance. He reached the end of the tunnel by approaching another set of stairs, this time leading up. Fred ascended them and entered the door at the top, finding himself inside of a small and old looking room, which held only a tall, bending staircase.

Fred continued up, aware of the way that the steps and floorboards creaked dangerously under his weight. He used the time necessary to reach the top to contemplate bringing George across the grounds and through the Whomping Willow. It shouldn't be too hard; he just needed to find a way to actually get George down to the tree. But he could worry about that later.

Once again, Fred discovered a small door at the top of the steps, and entered. The large room inside had had obviously been previously used, though it seemed that no one had been in there for at least a decade, if the amounts of grey dust on every surface were any sign. The few items of furniture were overturned or in pieces, giving the place an unsettled and ominous feeling.

But still, wasn't that exactly what he had wanted? How much of a chance was there that anyone would come looking for them in a shack like this?

With that thought, an exciting idea came to Fred. He briefly considered the distance he had walked through the underground tunnel, and the direction it had led him. The realization he made left him hurrying to the nearest of the heavily boarded windows. After finding a crack between two of the large pieces of old wood wide enough to look through, Fred clearly made out the path to the small village of Hogsmeade.

So he was right – he had not only learned the secret of the Whomping Willow, but also a way into the Shrieking Shack. Fred couldn't even attempt to keep off his triumphant troublemaker's smile. The one thing that kept him from enjoying this moment was George not being there to share it. It was time to officially put his plan into action.

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**Do-do-dododooo... I promise the next chapter will be a bit more smooth and probably make more sense. And will be up relatively soon. **

**Want to know something scary (though I'm sure most of you have already realized). Tom Riddle's birthday is _gasp_ tomorrow!! I'm scared, that's for sure. Please clicky the little review button - make my week:) (get me to update sooner...)**


	12. Definitely hit too hard

**AN: Oh, I feel horrible!! I completely lost track of time and had no _idea_ that it had been so long since I updated. A thousand and two apolgies, really. I am having a bit of trouble with my dying creativity right now, and to make everything 100 times worse...my laptop just crashed. But here. As an offering of peace I offer you all, um...another chapter. This one, chapter twleve, to be exact.**

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**Immediately after returning to the school, Fred found a mirror and erased the bruises from his fight with George, along with all of his newly acquired scrapes from his scuffle with the Whomping Willow. He had picked up on plenty of healing spells for minor cuts and bruises after seeing his mother deal with the numerous injuries he and his siblings had gained in the past fifteen years.

With that done, he settled in the Common Room with two small pieces of parchment. One blank and one a letter he and George had received from their mother after a particularly messy prank they had played on their older brother and his fellow prefects the previous year. He had never completely cleaned out his trunk over holiday, so he was still able to find the note – though admittedly not without a lengthy search.

He and George had nearly mastered their mother's handwriting so that they didn't need to copy from another paper, but Fred needed this to be perfect. He laid both of the papers in front of him and painstakingly formed his own message on the blank parchment, dipping his quill repeatedly in the ink. He was glad that none of his close friends were in the Common Room at the time. He didn't want anyone asking questions, which was something they had been inclined to do since George had started ignoring him a few days ago.

He finished his work by meticulously tracing his mother's signature onto the bottom of his parchment and reviewed what he had written.

__

Professor McGonagall,

I ask that you would please excuse my sons Fred and George from school this next week and allow them to return home briefly. We learned recently of the death of an Uncle of theirs and would like them to be able to attend his funeral, as they grew quite close to him this last summer. There is no need to disturb Ron and Ginny's class schedules; they were only babies the last time he visited and shouldn't be disturbed. We will pick our boys up at the entrance to Hogsmeade tomorrow morning. 

Thank you,

Molly Weasley

Fred allowed himself a satisfied smile at his success and blew on the ink a last time before folding and sealing the false letter. He left the school once more and ran to the Owlery in the fading sunlight.

"I've got a job for you, Damon. Take this to Professor McGonagall as fast as you can. It's got to get there soon." Fred gave the small letter to Lee Jordan's owl. It was common for the twins to borrow his rather than one of the school owls when Errol wasn't around, and necessary now if Fred wanted to fool his Head of House.

Damon gave Fred a look of disdain at the prospect of having to leave his comfort only to fly across the school grounds, but gripped the letter firmly in his beak and launched out of the window. Fred watched him leave in the direction of Minerva McGonagall's office, and then exited through the door and started down the winding path back toward the school.

He retrieved the Marauder's Map from his dorm, avoiding questioning looks from Lee who had recently returned from dinner. Fred worried as he exited the Common Room what damage his twin could have done since he'd last seen him, but quickly drove those thoughts out and unfolded the map in the safety of an empty hallway.

It didn't take Fred long at all to find George's name, but that was mainly due to the fact that none of the other many little dots representing the inhabitants of the school were wandering shakily through the empty Sixth Floor corridors.

Fred folded the wrinkled parchment in his hand and immediately rushed in the direction of his troubled brother. Fred knew that he was the absolute last person that George wanted to see, and he didn't want to repeat what had happened the last time he confronted his twin; so he pulled his wand out of his pocket as he ran.

His class had learned a new minor stunning spell the week before, and Fred had just recently perfected it. If he were to just barely stun George it should make him easy enough to lead out of the school without much trouble.

Fred finished running up a narrow stairway and turned off onto the sixth floor. He double checked the map and located exactly where George was. Fred crossed through a few hallways and stopped as he approached the correct one.

Holding his wand ready, the younger of the Weasley Twins strode to the door separating him from the hallway his brother stood in, took a steadying breath and flung it open.

"_Conplexus_," Fred yelled, but channeled only a small amount of magic into the blast. It was enough. George's eyes widened with shock and he dropped silently to the floor – five feet in front of Fred.

Fred stared down at his brother in slight horror. The last time he had checked the map, George was still halfway down the corridor, but he had apparently now been just about to exit through the same door Fred had used. From this close the magic would have hit much harder than had been intended. Fred dropped to his knees next to his twin, who in all appearances was unconscious.

"George?" Fred said timidly.

George's eyelids slowly rose to reveal peaceful brown eyes. At the same time, his lips pulled back into a content, small smile. Fred stared down at him, confused. Something was not right, though this was a decidedly different problem from before.

Gradually, George's gaze traveled across the entire ceiling and settled on Fred's bewildered features.

"Hmm, Fred?" he asked pleasantly. "What am I doing on the floor?" George's smile morphed into a mischievous and suspicious grin.

Fred knew that it should be a good thing that his brother was even talking to him, but the strange distant look in George's eyes was a bit disconcerting. Fred rolled back onto his heels to sit on the floor. "Are you, uh, feeling alright George?"

George burst into a fit of excruciatingly uncharacteristic giggles. Fred winced and closed his eyes. Stunning spell had definitely hit too hard. This complicated things slightly.

The only option was to keep going. This could all actually be a good thing. At least it would be easy to get George to come down to the Whomping Willow. Fred opened his eyes to see that George had sat up and was busily counting off fingers, mouthing each number as he put one down.

"George. What are you doing?" Fred asked, unable to avoid sounding a bit nervous as he spoke.

"Counting," George stated simply without looking up, as if his explanation was completely unnecessary.

"Counting…what?"

George dropped his hands to the ground and tilted his head toward his brother. "To ten. That's all the fingers I've got Fred." He stated matter-of-factly. Fred was sure that he would not forget this night any time in the near future.

"Well, we can, uh…count our fingers _later_ George. Right now we've got to go." He stood and offered a hand to help his twin.

George grabbed it enthusiastically and fairly bounced to his feet. "Where are we going?" He asked with a childlike tone of curiosity.

Fred just blinked at him. Angry, irrationally violent George, he could handle. Five-year-old-girl George, he wasn't so sure. Fred forced himself back to the task at hand, getting George out of the school, which now just meant going back to the Common Room and waiting.

He glanced back at George, who was still staring at him openly with that ridiculous smile, and turned and walked through the still open door. George apparently didn't mind not having his question answered and followed happily.

Fifteen minutes later, they had made their way through only two corridors – Fred having to grab his twin by the shoulders and force him to keep walking half of the time, as he was distracted by every portrait or sculpture they passed.

George walked pleasantly five feet behind his thoroughly annoyed brother, enjoying his new view on the entire castle. He passed by a mirror, and froze.

"Fred, look!" He sent his favorite brother an excited glance. "Look at this! It's a portrait of _you_!"

A passing Ravenclaw girl shot George a strange look. Fred groaned and sulked back down the hall to seize his brother's wrist and march him onward.

The twin brothers turned the continued through the school, and Fred was relieved when they finally approached the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room.

He stepped up to the Fat Lady's Portrait, and was about to speak the password when she sharply interrupted.

"No you don't. I can only imagine what you've done this time, but Professor McGonagall wants to see the two of you in her office immediately." She looked at Fred disdainfully and then sent the look over his shoulder to George, who just smiled back pleasantly and raised his hand in a small wave. "Once you are finished there, you can come in. That is _if _you haven't got yourselves expelled with one of your wild shenanigans."

Fred grinned, pleased that everything was going perfectly. Damon had obviously delivered the sham letter. "No such luck, I'm afraid. We haven't gotten into trouble today."

The Fat Lady scoffed her doubt and Fred turned back in the direction he had come. The entire mess was far from over, but at least as this point he had George by his side and a plan to get everything sorted out.

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**And yay! We get more Draco next chapter! It's been a while since we've been graced with his snarky presence, so the next chapter is dedicated (I think) entirely to him. **

**Please review!! It would make me extra-eemly happy!**

**I know, it has now been over two months since I updated – but I swear, I will _never_ abandon this story. I am still thinking about it almost constantly, and soon guilt for my horrid procrastination will catch up to me and I will finish writing the thirteenth chapter (yes!! it is started!!). Please just stick with me and I promise you will get to see what happens to Fred and George. **


	13. Everything's ready

**AN: Haha! I bet that you all thought that I was dead, hmm? Well...I'm back. And with me comes Draco, Fred and George. So, since I made you wait so long for an update (over two months!!) I won't make you wait any longer by writing and unbelievably boring AN. **

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Draco Malfoy stumbled breathlessly into the school Library. He leaned against the door in exhaustion, trying to catch his breath after running all the distance from the Quidditch Pitch. He had to find Granger! He had to find that Mudblood before she completely ruined his life. He had to get that book and get rid of it.

Even before he had fully regained his composure, panic shoved its way back to the front of Draco's mind and he started his search through the dusty rows of books. Creeping quickly between the shelves, Malfoy peeked his head around each one before turning the corner. He didn't know what he was going to do if Hermione already had the book, but he had to get it from her somehow.

It wasn't long before he saw a familiar head of bushy brown hair, bent intently over a large manuscript. Granger sat cross-legged in the midst of several small stacks of books, from lessons on Potions to a list of poisonous fungi growing in South America. She sighed heavily, closing the large book on her lap, and set it aside onto a neat pile next to her before reaching for another. Draco strained his eyes to see the title before she opened it.

"_Magical and Mythical Creatu – "_ Draco jumped quickly behind the shelf that he was standing next to when he accidentally gasped out loud, causing Granger to turn her head. Of _course _she would find the book before he could. ­_Of __**course**__._

Malfoy covered his face in despair. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Maybe he could just askGranger for the book? Right, a Slytherin ask a Mudblood for something? Because _that_ wasn't suspicious. Draco winced as he heard Hermione flipping through the pages, and did the first thing that came to his frazzled mind. Grabbing a large hardcover titled, _"How to Raise Troll Infants Without Losing an Arm_", Malfoy pitched it around the shelf in the direction of Hermione's head.

He held his breath at the dull thunk of the book hitting its target, and Granger's quiet inquiry: "Who…the hell?" Draco peered through the books on the shelf separating him from the offended Gryffindor, and then hurried to hide behind the opposite end of the shelf as Hermione stood to search for her attacker. He turned the corner just as she stepped into the aisle he had been observing her from.

Hermione glanced up and down the seemingly empty rows of books, while Draco tried his hardest not to breathe. After looking in all directions more than once, Hermione seemed satisfied that whoever had been there was now gone, and settled back on the floor with a haughty expression. Picking up the book that she had been reading, Hermione tucked her hair behind her ear and resumed her research.

Draco shut his eyes tightly and tried to think. The distraction hadn't worked, but at least he still hadn't been found. He just needed to get Granger to put down his book so he could grab it and get out of there!

Malfoy's head shot up as Hermione gasped excitedly and leaned closer to the page that she was reading, her hair dropping out from behind her ear and blocking Draco's view of the book.

"That's it," she whispered loudly to herself. Draco could hear her mumbling under her breath as she read, "…_angered easily and behave offensively, sometimes to the point of violence…of course…"_

_No, no, no, no!!_ Without thinking, Malfoy withdrew his wand from his pocket and lifted it toward the shelf opposite him, and directly in front of Granger.

"_Accio__,"_ he whispered sharply. Obedient to his magic, a series of thin novels abandoned their place on the old shelves and zoomed toward Draco in a straight line, hitting Hermione in the face on their way. She jumped up from the floor and stalked in the direction that the books had flown from, determined to find her attacker.

Malfoy seized his hard earned opportunity an dashed from his hiding place, reached down, and grabbed the small red book that Granger had discarded. He was about to turn and run when he spotted another, almost identical, book on the floor next to his foot. He grabbed that one as well, and straightened as he looked from one to the other - frantic to find which was the one he truly wanted.

"_Malfoy?" _Draco jumped and raised terrified eyes. He found himself staring at a thoroughly pissed off Hermione Granger.

Without another thought, Draco turned and ran from the library, both books still in hand.

Shoving past students standing outside the library, Draco charged for the end of the corridor, blind with panic and purpose. He was going to be rid of this entire mess! He just had to destroy this bloody book.

"Malfoy! _Stop!_" Granger's voice reached Draco just before he turned out of the second floor hallway and onto a side staircase. He froze with his foot on the first stair and looked across his shoulder in shock. She was following him?!

Confirming Draco's thoughts, Hermione quickened her steps when she saw him pause, and opened her mouth to speak again. Before she could make a sound, though, Draco ducked around the corner and started quickly down the stone steps. His heavy breathing echoed around him between the narrow walls, but the unnerving sound was interrupted by another set of quick footsteps on the top of the stairs.

Malfoy ran into the clear light pouring in through the window in the nearly empty corridor below, and wheeled around to slam the stairway door shut behind him before continuing down toward the dungeons.

Running towards the door to the Grand Staircase, Draco glanced down to the books that he was gripping as he ran. Which was the one that he wanted? Before he could detect the difference between the two, he was grabbed from behind and turned roughly around. Captain and beater of the Slytherin Quidditch team glared down at him.

"What made you think that you could walk out on practice?" Marcus leered, while Bole repeatedly hit his beater's bat into his palm in an intimidating way. The implications of this action were not lost on Draco.

Flint continued, his eyebrows forming one thick line as he bared his teeth menacingly. "This team doesn't belong to the Malfoys. You think you can ignore me and stay seeker, think again."

While Draco opened his mouth with an indignant reply, he cast a glance over his team captain's shoulder. Granger had apparently run into Potter and Weasley during her pursuit, and now the three of them were rapidly approaching Draco, clearly livid.

With renewed desperation, Draco turned away from his furious teammates and completed the distance to the Grand Staircase, descending the steps as quickly as he could bring his legs to carry him.

* * *

Fred realized as he entered McGonagall's office that this was the first time that he was there and wasn't in trouble. At least, he wasn't _yet._ Though with the way George was acting, he wasn't sure how long that would last. Fred didn't dare leave his dazed twin alone in the halls, but he was reluctant to try and bluff his way through a conversation with his Head of House with him there.

"Thank you both for coming up here," Minerva offered from across the room. "Please sit down first," she said in reply to Fred's innocent questioning look.

McGonagall took her seat behind the desk in the center of the room, and Fred followed his brother to the two chairs set up in front. George plopped into his in a rather un-graceful manner, still maintaining his pleasant smile. Fred attempted to match his expression so that however absurd it would usually appear on a Weasley Twin's face, it could pass as normal. He doubted that he was being very successful, but no questions had been asked so far.

"I received a letter from your mother," Minerva started, her expression already showing signs of sympathy. In spite of the growing excitement that his plan was working, Fred masked his face with a look of concern, and George in turn looked concerned at the sight of his brother seeming unhappy. McGonagall took a breath before continuing, "she says that an Uncle of yours has…passed on."

Fred's well-trained acting skills took charge immediately and a pained look overcame his features. "Uncle Mortimer?" he asked in an exaggeratedly sorrowful voice.

Professor McGonagall pulled her lips into a bracing smile and turned her gaze from Fred to George, who thankfully had remained blank and quiet.

"I…I can't believe it," Fred said shakily, anxious to pull Minerva's attention back to him. George nodded slowly, and Fred looked to him, willing him to keep quiet. But George had no such intentions.

"I am very sorry to…" Minerva began, but was soon interrupted by a now distressed looking George.

"But Fred," he said quietly, "what about the lavender colored tea pots?"

Fred, entirely confused, paled at McGonagall's clearly alarmed features. "George, uh, George it…they really don't matter right now," he shot out hastily. His brother was going to spoil everything. Fred just knew it.

George raised his eyebrows in surprise at Fred's answer, then simply leaned back in his chair, apparently appeased. McGonagall visibly composed herself after the surprise of George's bizarre question, and addressed Fred once again.

"Your mother requested that you be able to attend the funeral. So, I will arrange for Hagrid to wait for you in the Entrance Courtyard just before breakfast tomorrow morning and escort you to Hogsmeade, where you will meet your parents."

"Thanks, Professor," Fred said, with a much sincerity as he could muster.

"Of course, Mr. Weasley. But now," Minerva motioned for the twins to stand, "you both should pack what belongings you wish to bring with you, and consider retiring to your dormitories early tonight, before your walk in the morning."

"Right, Professor," George agreed, causing his twin to wince apprehensively. Fred held his breath, begging silently that George wouldn't say anything more. "We have to put the socks to bed, after all," George finished with a shrug.

Fred urgently grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him toward the door. Wherever George's mind was right now, it wasn't doing them any good in McGonagall's office. With a last expression of thanks, Fred stepped out through the door and closed it between him and his slightly bewildered Head of House.

As soon as the door had latched, Fred turned and grinned at his brother. Everything was ready. Their roommates wouldn't notice them missing. It was hardly unusual for the twins to be out of their dorm past curfew. And no one else would realize that they were gone until at least after breakfast when Hagrid would have to tell Professor McGonagall. It seemed that Fred's ridiculous plan was somehow going perfectly.

* * *

In the familiar halls of the dungeons, Malfoy passed the Potions classroom and continued toward the Slytherin Common Room, never once breaking his run.

Nearing his destination, Draco sped up, the entrance to the Common Room growing nearer. His fast-paced run was interrupted, however, when the top of his foot caught on something solid and he slammed face-first to the floor.

Draco shoved himself back up under the mocking stares of his fellow Slytherins in the crowded passage and turned instinctively to find the cause of his fall. He found himself facing an extremely smug Millicent Bulstrode. Before he had time to even be nervous about what could have caused her to be so joyous, she smirked into his face: "I've found it Malfoy. I've _seen _it. You're _dead._"

_Oh, Fuck…_Draco stumbled back a few steps as Bulstrode turned the corner with a last triumphant sneer in his direction. New mission…destroy book, and get rid of creature.

Draco turned and ignored all else until he reached his dorm. Both of his trunks were open on his bed, his possessions scattered across the blankets and the small black creature scuttling restlessly in its cage. As Draco neared the bed it turned toward him instantly, letting out a high-pitched squealing noise.

Draco's stomach clenched in revulsion at the sight of the creature struggling against its cage to reach him. Why had he bought the bloody thing in the first place? He was more than ready to get rid of it and forget any of this had ever happened.

Quickly and clumsily, Draco dropped the books he was carrying and undid the latch to the small metal cage. Immediately, the creature launched itself out and onto Draco's palm with a squeak of delight – it even seemed to be waggling its short, pointed tail at the joy of being near Draco again. Wincing, Malfoy ran hurriedly to the center of the room and jerked open the rectangular door on the small pot-bellied stove that warmed the dorm.

The fire inside crackled out toward Draco's fingers, and he pulled his hand back sharply. There was only a moment's hesitation, while the creature nuzzled further against his thumb, before the disgust and fear welled fully in Draco and he ripped the creature off of his hand and hurled it into the licking flames.

A truly awful series of squeals and shrieks emitted from the stove as the heat devoured its victim. Draco momentarily shut his eyes tightly, unexpectedly overwhelmed and disturbed, before shakily standing and returning to the side of his bed. Picking up the two identical library books that he had left there, he hastily compared the two, tossing the text titled "Potions Before Charms" aside. Andella Samry's account of the Magical animals populating the earth quickly followed one of its own creatures into the fire, and Draco slammed the stove shut.

He allowed himself a shallow sigh of relief as the last protesting cries from the authoress' photograph on the back of the book faded, leaving silence.

Malfoy retrieved his wand from his pocket, and with a quick _Evanesco_ disposed of the creature's cage, clearing the last bit of evidence against him. At a sudden commotion from the Common Room, Draco rapidly shoved his belongings back into his trunk, and with a steadying breath exited his dorm.

* * *

**Phew...I can't believe that I finally finished it. Well, I learned my lesson. I make no promises about when the next update will be, I can only promise that I will work on it as quickly as I can. I need to say thank you to everyone for being so patient with me, and especially much thanks to Wondering What Breakfast Is for making me feel guilty by writing so much. And thanks equally much to Severusly for being the wonderful beta-person that she is. Anyway... hope you enjoyed. Stick around for the next update sometime soon (at least within the next year...heheh). **


	14. Confrontations

**AN: Dude...I take off two months, and then I write two chapters in a week. I am impressed with myself. **

* * *

Draco emerged from the door to the boys' dormitories, still shaky and on-edge. A small group of Slytherin students were clustered tightly in front of the entrance to the Common Room, glancing over each other's heads with curiosity and blocking Draco's view of what was on the other side. Still, he was pretty sure he could make a fair guess.

Sure enough, he soon caught the voice of one of his housemates – a tall sixth year at the front of the group.

"What d'you want, Potter?" Amusement and annoyance were both clear in his voice. It was certainly uncommon for a Gryffindor to show up in the dungeons, demanding admittance to Slytherin territory.

"Where's Malfoy?" Harry's angry voice came from just outside the large room.

Draco, wanting nothing more than to get everything over with, crossed the Common Room and shoved his way forward to the entrance. "This has nothing to do with you," he snapped at students as he passed them. "Get lost!"

His words made little to no difference, and the Slytherins only crammed in tighter as Draco approached the three Gryffindors, who were standing imposingly in the dark dungeon corridor.

Granger's hair stood out even further from her head than usual, and she, Potter and Weasley all showed signs of running a long distance. They had only just caught up to Malfoy.

"What took you so long, Granger?" he asked sharply, as nothing better to say came to mind immediately. He was having great difficulty even fixing a sneer onto his face.

Ron stepped forward, looking murderous. "What did you do to my brother, Malfoy?"

Draco could feel the panic ebbing its way back into his mind, but he shrugged it off quickly. "Which one?" he asked, deftly slipping into insult mode. "I doubt your own parents can keep track of the mess of second-hand redheads they've launched into the world."

Before Ron could snarl and insult back at Malfoy, Hermione took charge of the conversation. "George Fabian Weasley, Malfoy," she elaborated unnecessarily. "We know that you're somehow in on what's been happening with him."

"I haven't the faintest what you're on about. You're sure it's not just something to do with that Bludger he caught so fantastically a while back?" Draco said, leaning against the wall with as much of a maliciously nonchalant expression as he could manage. "Who the hell gave you lot the bloody right to chase me down and interrogate me?" he demanded, staring condescendingly at the three seething Gryffindors.

"Ask him about the monster! Ask him about his precious _pet_!" a voice shot out from behind the trio. Bulstrode stood in the hallway, seeming extremely pleased that she wasn't the only one giving Draco trouble.

Malfoy smirked easily. Millicent was in for a bit of an unpleasant shock. "What are you talking about?" he yelled back at her, past Potter's accusing glare. "I don't have any pets!" No one would find _anything _on him.

Hermione had turned to Millicent, looking intrigued and excited. "What does it look like?" she asked eagerly, apparently forgetting the fact that she despised Bulstrode, and never before would have even attempted to ask a civilized question.

Millicent seemed slightly surprised at the question, but answered readily. "Well, it was black…with, with some red. And it had fangs and a –"

"A little tail?" Hermione cut in. Draco's stomach sank, as she turned, ecstatic, to her anxious friends. "Harry, Ron that's it! That's the creature that was in the book!"

"But I'm telling you," Draco started, "I don't own anything like –"

His words were lost as Harry attempted to shove past him and into the Green and Silver Common Room. But the same dark-haired sixth year that had opened the entrance for Harry reached out an arm and stopped him. Though it was obvious that the surrounding Slytherins were extremely curious, there was no way in hell that they were going to let Harry Potter of all people come traipsing into their private quarters.

Draco, who wasn't about to lose this opportunity to put George Weasley's friends off track once and for all, moved forward and parted the throng of protective Slytherins.

"No, no. Let them look," Draco insisted calmly. "Though I assure you Potter, you won't find anything in my dormitory."

The boy holding Harry shrugged briefly and released him with a disdainful sneer. Harry glanced back at his friends, before the three of them continued on into enemy territory.

Draco turned with a small smile and walked behind them back toward the dorms, now followed by half a dozen whispering Slytherins who had been observing the conversation avidly from the sidelines.

At a demanding glare from Ron, Draco indicated which door led to his room. As painful as it was seeing Potter and his friends marching into his domain, it was a small price to pay for getting them all off his case. As soon as they had made a thorough mess of his things looking for a creature that no longer existed, he could finally tell them to piss off, and _probably _even tell Professor Snape what they had done, landing them in detention.

After the trio and Malfoy, Millicent Bulstrode was the next into the room – looking joyous with triumph. She immediately walked to Malfoy's bed and pulled his trunk out from underneath, heaving it up and speedily undoing the latches.

The three present Gryffindors crowded forward, as well as anyone else that could fit in the small space between the beds. Draco merely stood, leaning casually against a wall as he enjoyed watching the others' excited expressions.

Millicent hastily removed the small trunk from the larger one and clicked it open. Her eager eyes scanned its contents, before narrowing with suspicion and anger.

"_Where is it…"_ she mumbled under her breath, removing a few small items from the trunk, while Granger looked to Weasley with a nervous expression. Draco just smirked.

"_Malfoy_," Bulstrode hissed, wheeling around to face him. "Where did you hide it?" She was beginning to look hysterical, her eyes growing wide. "WHERE DID YOU HIDE YOUR STUPID CREATURE?"

Draco pulled the smile off of his face and replaced it with an open expression. Eyebrows lifted, he drawled, "I just keep telling you, Bulstrode. There never _was_ any creature."

At this blatant lie, Millicent narrowed her eyes, clenched her teeth, and launched herself at Draco. He went down under her considerable bulk, his short, high pitched scream barely audible over her bellow of rage.

The kids in the crowded dorm room immediately set up a significant amount of noise, shouting out jeers and encouragement as Bulstrode actually raised a heavy fist and pummeled it into Malfoy's stomach.

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged dejected glances – not really understanding what was happening, and being equally unsure what to do at the moment. Maybe this sort of thing was common with the Slytherins?

The commotion died down immediately as Argus Filch – who had been dutifully patrolling the dungeon corridors, and couldn't help but hear the din coming through the still-open Common Room entrance – elbowed his way into the room. Students parted as he stepped further in, then paused to look from one apprehensive face to the next.

"What's all this noise about?" he demanded suspiciously, his eyes landing immediately on Harry.

The sound of Filch's voice caused Millicent Bulstrode to freeze, her hands still wrapped firmly around a purpling Draco's throat. Under the Caretaker's quivering gaze, she slowly released her grip, and Draco took in a shuddering gasp.

Millicent got to her feet and glared around the room, her lower lip starting to tremble and her eyes filling with tears. "He…he d-did something to my cat, sir," she addressed Filch.

Argus Filch nodded several times, a harsh smile pulling at his lips. "I knew it would be Potter at the bottom of a problem," he confirmed to himself. "He's a cat killer!"

Harry opened his mouth to defend himself, but Bulstrode scoffed through her tears, "Not _him!_ Malfoy!" She turned and glared at Draco, who was on his feet, but still wincing and rubbing his neck. "He's got a creature - some kind of spider. And he's not supposed to have it!" she added, to enforce her case against him.

"You," Filch snarled at a rather small Slytherin standing near the door. "You'll go and fetch Professor Snape about this." The boy started to leave, but Filch called him back. "McGonagall too. We'll see what business Gryffindors like these three have in here."

The next several minutes were long and awkward ones – Malfoy attempting to stay out of Bulstrode's reach in the crowded room, Bulstrode sniffling frequently, and Harry, Ron and Hermione feeling out of place amongst all the green.

Finally the two Heads of House arrived. Both looked rather put out, and McGonagall instantly fixed her three students with expert looks of extreme disappointment before turning to Argus.

"What is so terribly urgent that I have been called to… this part of the castle?" she inquired, speaking the last words with extreme distaste.

At a quick nod from Filch – who seemed rather excited now that there was real authority in the room, and a prospect of real punishments – Millicent recounted her story in full detail to the two professors.

Snape grimaced at the girl momentarily. "Why didn't you come to me about any of this sooner?" he inquired plainly.

"I _did_!" Millicent exclaimed, seeming on the verge of an emotional breakdown. "You didn't _listen to me_!"

The number of Slytherin students in the room had doubled, and everyone was watching intently. All eyes turned to Draco, when he spoke for the first time in several minutes.

"This is all entirely pointless!" he declared harshly. "Bulstrodes's cat is always running off on its own," several Slytherin students nodded in agreement, "this time is no different."

"That's not the only reason we're all here, Malfoy," Hermione spoke up from where she, Harry and Ron had been standing silently. "We want to know why you attacked me," (McGonagall raised her eyebrows and turned to stare at Draco), "took my book on Magical creatures – _while _I was looking at the exact species of highly poisonous Dunkraek Beetle that Bulstrode just described," (Severus did the same as Minerva, adding to the many sets of eyes upon Malfoy), " and then ran," Hermione finished with a small huff.

Draco could feel his self-confidence seeping away under the angry, accusatory and inquisitive stares that weighed down on him. He put on a shocked expression and turned to Hermione.

"I didn't take any book on animals," he announced firmly. Crossing the short distance to his bed, Draco retrieved the second book that he had stolen from the library and held it up for all to see. Hermione's mouth dropped open slightly, and she glared at the Potions textbook as though it had somehow betrayed her.

"I'm working on a make up essay for Professor Sprout," Malfoy improvised quickly. "On the dangers of –" his mind worked frantically to remember the topic of his last Herbology class. " – of…potting carnivorous plants." He finished less than convincingly. The air was heavy with disbelieving stares, until a skinny girl standing near Professor Snape piped up.

"I'm doing the same essay –"

Draco felt that he very easily could have kissed her at that moment.

"- But that's not the right book."

Draco had to resist the strong urge to hex the girl on the spot.

"It isn't?" Draco flipped the book around, and glanced at the cover, shrugging. "My mistake." He dropped it at Hermione's feet. "I've never seen your other book," he said. "Maybe if you weren't so bent on destroying my life, you would find it in the Library where you left it."

There was the odd murmur through the room as the Gryffindors exchanged helpless looks, and Professor Snape took up the conversation again. "Draco, why is it that you felt compelled to physically assault Miss Granger, aside from the obvious."

Minerva set her glare upon Snape.

Draco turned to his Head of House; thankful to be talking to someone that he knew was likely to be on his side. "The paper was late," he confessed falsely, with a faked expression of slight embarrassment. "Granger certainly didn't need it for make up or extra points – and as if I would stoop so low as to ask a Gryffindor for anything," he finished with a classic sneer. While Snape seemed to think this a perfectly adequate answer, McGonagall was hardly pleased.

"There is no excuse for your actions, Mr. Malfoy," she said. "Fifteen points from Slytherin, and I want you in my office tomorrow evening to work out detentions."

Draco grimaced, but kept quiet. He just wanted desperately for everyone to get out of his room and give him a second to breathe.

"If you didn't take that book, then what the hell is wrong with George?" Ron had spoken for the first time since they entered the dorm.

McGonagall looked alarmed. "Whatever do you mean, Mr. Weasley? Your brothers were in my office just minutes before I was called down here. I received a letter from you mother, informing me of…" Minerva's voice died off, and she grew much more solemn when she continued speaking to Ron. "The letter told of a death in your family, Mr. Weasley."

Hermione gasped, and Ron paled. "Your Uncle Mortimer," Minerva explained, though Ron donned a perplexed expression. "But both of your brothers seemed perfectly normal. As normal as can be expected after such tragedy. Though…" her voice grew slightly quieter, "I can't begin to fathom what George meant by lavender colored tea pots, and… putting the _socks_ to bed."

A few students sniggered, and Ron turned helplessly to Harry. "I don't even have an Uncle Mortimer." His face showed signs of panic. "Do I?"

Draco and Severus both rolled their eyes. The Potions Professor addressed all of his Slytherin students. "Unless you are specifically involved in this ridiculous mess, leave the room…now." The finality in his voice left no room for argument, and disappointed Slytherins quickly shuffled out of the room, while Professor McGonagall listened to Hermione's retelling of George's strange actions of late.

"I only did what was perfectly reasonable," Minerva said, though she looked truly concerned. "Fred was quite distraught, and I didn't notice any abnormal behavior at the time."

Draco interrupted with a sigh of impatience. "I demand to know what the Weasley lot's never-ending oddities have to do with me?" he announced, earning himself another stern grimace from McGonagall.

"Nothing," Severus confirmed. "It is time for all of you to go to bed and stop creating problems from small and ordinary things."

"But what about the creature?" Bulstrode asked desperately.

"It doesn't exist, Sir," Draco maintained, when Snape looked to him.

Frowning, Snape spoke to Millicent. "Mr. Filch and I will stay and make a thorough search of this dormitory, to see whether or not Mr. Malfoy is indeed hiding any creature. That is the most I can do. For now, _everyone_ must return to their own Common Rooms," he looked pointedly that the trio of Gryffindors, "and refrain from causing trouble for the remainder of the evening."

"Thank you, Professor Snape," Minerva said. "I can take care of my own students now. Back to Gryffindor Tower, you three. Mr. Weasley, I should like a short word with you."

McGonagall swept out of the room, closely followed by Hermione, Ron and Harry. Draco caught their parting glares as they exited, leaving him greatly relieved. Millicent cast a last despairing glance around the room, before stalking out as well.

Draco looked at Snape, who was staring at him with an entirely unreadable expression, and suddenly felt extremely awkward. Not knowing what else to do, Draco soon left the room the same as the others, leaving Professor Snape and Filch to search it. They wouldn't find anything, of course, but Malfoy still felt uneasy. The last place that he wanted to be was around other people, and he quickly strode across the Common Room and out into the hallway before any questions could be asked by still-curious housemates. Shutting the entrance behind him, Draco left the dungeons.


	15. Various Struggles

**Well... Oh my goodness, hello again, everyone. ^^; I suppose it might be a bit awkward to apologize, hehe... -bites lip-  
I can't necessarily promise that this means I'm back for good, but somehow it struck me today that...I should really update. I'm sorry if my writing doesn't live up to expectations, it's a bit hard to try to get back into it.  
But here is the next part! I hope you enjoy, or at least that it is a good thing that I showed my face again. :) We'll see how things go from here. I probably will update again... even if it takes another two and a half years. -awkward laugh-**

* * *

Draco was thoroughly annoyed, and felt strongly what he would have liked to call depression, if anyone had been near enough to hear and give him sympathy for it. Perhaps he should have been thoughtful enough to realize that by this time he easily could have been sitting back at home, explaining to his parents why he had been expelled, but there would have been no self-glorifying or self-pitying in that line of thought, so he automatically skipped over it.

Scuffing the hallway stones with his feet and wishing with all his might that he had the strength to shatter them with only the glowering scowl on his face, the disheartened Malfoy turned into the next corridor, only to scramble back and hold his own mouth silent a moment later.

Of all the people he would have wanted to run into, the Weasley twins could honestly have placed in the bottom ten. Not only were they a blatant reminder of the entire mess he was in, even if Draco's pride had taken something of a blow, his self-preservation was still mightily intact. Granger could have told them everything by now, or maybe George was just in a fine mood to hit something, either way Draco was happy to keep his distance and keep quiet until they passed safely by.

"George, _please_... just walk." Draco instinctively leaned his head for eavesdropping as Fred's voice reached him. "No, no-no-no-_this_ way. _SHHHHH-!_" There was a short sigh. "Just come on..."

"_Come...on...where?_" An exaggerated whisper replied to its twin.

"It doesn't matter, George, just listen to me. We'll be back soon, just walk. And _be quiet_, you have to understand that we _don't_ want anyone to hear us, George..."

The footsteps finally returned to a steady pace, and Draco was left to think as George's voice faded out. The pondering didn't last long, though, and he creaked the separating door open, leaning his head out to make sure that they were truly gone, and then daringly, or so Draco would have called it, following after them.

He had almost forgotten that there was still George to be entertained by, and where was the point of all of this trouble if he didn't see where it led to. He couldn't start to make sense of their conversation. After all that he had seen of George recently, it didn't fit in. A sense of paranoia pressed him to get to the bottom of that as well - any complication probably meant bad news for him.

Draco watched his feet as he crept down the corridor, feeling apprehensive when he was easily able to track the twins around the next corner, looking just in time to see them leave through another door.

It got colder the further they went, and Draco tried to place where in the castle they must have been at that point. It became clear with the next turn, as he found himself watching Fred magically pick the lock of Filch's convenient side-exit from the school, exclusively for the caretaker's use, supposedly.

Draco sneered away the tiny bit of fear that bloomed deep in his throat, his remedy for removing any nuisance. This could lead to anything, and there was too much at stake for him too even think of backing out, no matter that he was running out in the dark with the Weasleys, or that he would only be in more trouble if he were caught along with them.

It was an easy enough lock to break, any student knew how to do it, even if some used it more often than others. Draco continued to follow silently, suddenly wishing that there had been any way for him to think to bring a coat. Stumbling and shivering was even harder to keep quiet, but Fred still seemed mostly absorbed in directing George, though he looked around to check his direction from time to time.

He was close to turning around and getting out of the damn cold and finished with this stupid, worthless chase when finally, something happened. Draco realized where they were going.

"Fred…. That's the Whomping Willow." The emotions in George's voice were a bit hard to recognize, but Draco decided to call them fear and horror, and take comfort in the fact that at least one of the people he was sharing the late-night venture with was sane and didn't like murderous plant life.

"Yeah, I know… Come on, George, I've got something to show you. Just stay….way behind me…"

Draco watched in utter confusion and slight horror as Fred started easing his way down the hill. The redhead stooped at one point, selecting a large rock from the ground and balancing it in his hand.

Wide blue eyes saw as Fred neared the tree, and the branches gave a stir. And then almost as soon as it had started, it was finished again… Careful aim, perfected with years of being a beater, had helped Fred to hurl his stone through the tree's drooping branches, and then there was silence.

It took Draco several moments to gather his thoughts after watching Fred and his twin walk…._into_….the trunk of the infamous tree. It was still and safe. They were getting away, and he was still sitting there. It was part curiosity and part desperation that drove Draco forward, cowering in the shadow of the tree as he crept to the suddenly visible entrance in the side.

He tentatively stuck a toe onto the first step and found it easier to stumble the rest of the way, extremely intimidated by the shady surroundings. The twins had surely gone far out of hearing range by this time, and Draco allowed himself to tremble freely.

Even vocally he began to shiver when he lit his wand and saw the tunnel before him to be just as spooky as he had imagined. The perfect lair for anything unpleasant – but at least the Weasleys were there to warn him with their own screams were anyone to start being devoured.

Fortunately there were no twists or detours in the path. None that Draco noticed, at least. Coughing on dust most of the time, his travel through the filth was nothing but grueling.

Uneasy, he eyed the staircase he reached, and grimaced before starting his trip to the top. When would this ever stop happening to him, it wasn't fair… Everything was always harder than it looked.

By the second set of stairs Draco was panting, but the sound of voices at the end of it renewed his motivation. There was obviously a light lit behind the rickety door, and more than enough cracks for him to silently peek into the small room on the other side.

"It's just… a game, George. An adventure game, alright?"

Draco blinked and leaned closer, studying the scene. George in a unsteady sort of chair – Fred leaning close…and apparently fastening ropes around his brother's wrists. None of it made much sense at all, especially not to explain why George was so damned calm when it had cost Draco a lot to get him to the point where he was anything but. He could only assume that the ropes were Fred's own precaution, and probably a good step to take.

"Fred, that doesn't make any sense, why would _we_ play a game? I'm tired, can we go back to the school?" George lifted his arm away from the chair rest.

Fred sighed, pulling him back into place and working quickly. "Not yet, George, but everything's going great. We'll be fine, just…come on, George, just trust me. I've got a plan, but I can't tell you yet."

"A plan for what?" George looked scared when Fred knelt, using yet another rope to tie his ankle. "Fred, stop it. Let go of my leg."

"Just trust me… We'll get this fixed. I don't care how long it takes, it will fix. There…" Draco watched him stand and look down at his tightly bound brother. Fred subtly pointed his wand, using a spell to weave the ropes into each other, making them impossible to unfasten without being cut.

George began another protestation, but Draco had already begun to run, turned far away from the scene. It wouldn't be fixed, not out here. George would die, and while at some point Draco had gotten a generous amount of sick pleasure at the thought, he had always known that as long as they were in the school it would be caught before then. As soon as George became sick Madame Pomfrey would have had him, and somehow he would have been taken care of.

If things stayed this way… If they stayed here, George would die. There was no way around that. If he admitted what had happened, if he warned Madame Pomfrey about what had bitten George then she could save him, or at least get him to someone who could. If they had just stayed in school no one ever would have been able to pin anything on him, there was absolutely no proof left. The only way now would be to turn himself in, but then what would become of him?

The entire run to the exit was spent on a battle with his conscience. It turned out to be an unfair fight – the only type that Draco would ever participate in – and naturally it was a clean win for his side.

Once George got sick Fred would take him back, right? How would he be so stupid not to? Really there was nothing to worry about, it was going to be pretty obvious, and if they couldn't take care of themselves maybe they deserved whatever happened. Besides, Fred obviously had a plan. Maybe he knew more than Draco thought. None of his was his responsibility anymore; he was just going to put it from his mind.

Draco climbed into the fresh air with a deep breath, glad to finally see green grass rather than dust and cobwebs. He took one guilt-free step forward, and lifted his foot for another, unsuspecting of the thick branch flying to knock him onto the ground.


End file.
